From Failing Hands
by ObsessivelyOdd
Summary: The whole of England thinks that Alex Rider has been dead for two years, but when World War Three breaks out, he is the only one that can save them. With a price still on his head, will Alex try to keep his secret, or will he return for one last mission?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This chapter is dedicated to The Noted Musician for reviewing all of the three one-shots preceding this. This is the chaptered sequel to Duty to the Dead, though all you really need to know from that is that Jack is dead (sorry! That just seems to keep happening! I actually really like Jack, promise!) and MI6 and the entire of England think that Alex is dead, except Wolf and Tom. Alex, now, lives in Germany with Yassen, David (Yassen's son) and Amethyst (his would-be wife)._

_Ok, so recap over, though I would suggest you go and read DttD first! (Sorry – shameless plug there! lol)_

_DISCLAIMER: Alex Rider does not belong to me, nor will it ever._

_***_

The explosions were close, incredibly close, just over the lip of the dig, in fact. World War Three had finally come. If you told him when he had first emigrated from England – or more accurately fled, though he didn't like to put it like that, he didn't like to think of his last few months there at all– that the entire world would go to war again – well, actually he would have believed you. But if you told him that it would be Europe – including Britain – against _America_, he would have thought you were crazy. And another thing, this was the twenty-first century, how come everything seemed to have reverted to the same methods as seen in his history lessons on WW1?

In the last two years, he had built on his cover. He was half German, through his father, his mother was English and he had lived there for most of his life before moving to Germany. It explained away any mistakes in his German, though they had become less and less frequent over time.

Alex had returned to England to sign up. He had never really been patriotic – he knew exactly what his country was like, no different from any other country. But it was _his_ country and he didn't want the American dictator to take it over.

For that was what was happening. Somehow, despite all the background checks that the CIA performs, a certifiable lunatic had slipped through their net. Slowly he had brought his people into government until he had majority. He could do what he wanted. He replaced Byrne with his own man. He got rid of the vote. Things had gone from bad to worse. In America, you did as directed or you were shot. They had invaded Canada and conquered it. Then they had turned their attention south, to Mexico. Mexico had been prepared, but against larger forces and better firepower, they didn't stand a chance.

France had mobilised first, quickly followed by Spain and Germany and Russia. Britain had held out longer, as long as they could, unwilling to give up the special friendship they had with America, but with thousands of refugees arriving everyday from the 'new' America, they had not been able to hold out long. It was Europe against America, and Britain had finally chosen a side.

The entire world was waiting, terrified, for the launch of a nuclear missile. And virtually every able bodied man had joined the army in the hopes that this could be ended quickly, before that happened. So far it had dragged on for six months. Alex had been here for three, having joined up just two weeks after his eighteenth birthday.

They were dug in on the southern border of Mexico, sheets of sloping iron over their heads to roll the bombs away from them, down into no-man's land. Planes roared overhead constantly, the noise deafening the new recruits within minutes. Sometimes there was a lull in the constant barrage of shells and grenades. It was then that the soldiers raised their eyes to the clouded sky and prayed. It was then that they knew the men were coming.

It happened now. The eerie silence as the planes retreated, drawing the battle of the air away from the battle field. The sudden shortage of exploding shells.

The men looked over the edge and see shapes emerging from the smoke and fiery pits of the battle field. Alex gritted his teeth.

"Up and at 'em!" he yelled, vaulting onto the step and over the side, gun in hand.

He tried to ignore the screams as bullets dug into human flesh. He tried to ignore the burning in his shoulder from his own bullet wound. So far he had been lucky – he hadn't been injured. And living is a habit – the longer you do it, the better you get. Alex had been actively practising living for over four years now. He was an expert.

But luck wasn't with him today. He felt something click under his foot and froze. Landmine.

As soon as he moved his foot, it would blow. If he stayed still, a bullet would find him in no time. Johnny, a friend from the platoon, saw his unnaturally tense position and started forward. Alex shook his head frantically.

_Don't come over here._

Johnny ignored him, still coming ever closer. Alex closed his eyes, bent his legs and leapt.

The mine went off. He could feel the heat of the explosion on his legs, but he was out of it. He went cannoning in to Johnny and both of them fell to the ground, tumbling down into a crater.

Alex lay still. The right leg of his trousers had been burnt away to reveal the hideous red, cracking flesh underneath. He could feel a shard of something – shrapnel, he guessed – embedded in his shoulders. He gritted his teeth as he experimentally moved the arm; it hurt like hell but was just about manageable, he'd seen worse. Johnny was lying beside him, unconscious, his helmet missing and lying several feet away. Alex grabbed it and placed it back on his friends head, checking him over for injuries as he went. One of his legs was bent at a funny angle, broken. Alex winced in empathy.

Cautiously he raised his head, only to duck again immediately as a shell went off nearby. So the attack was over. There was no chance of getting back to the trench now, not until nightfall. Thankfully that was only a few hours away.

***

Alex spent the hours until nightfall in the crater, biting his lips to keep from screaming in pain. Johnny woke up after about twenty minutes. Alex thought he had concussion, but wasn't sure. Alex tried to block out his moans. He wasn't very successful.

When it was dark, and the only danger the sporadic, un-aimed shells dropped from over head, Alex rose carefully to his feet, wincing as he put weight on his injured leg. It felt as if it were still burning, and every movement sent waves of agony through him. He bent over Johnny, who had fallen into a fitful sleep, and shook him awake. Johnny looked at him blearily for a moment then clambered unsteadily to his feet, leaning heavily on Alex to keep weight off his leg.

They hadn't far to walk to the trenches, about twenty metres, but in the dark, with shells exploding around them and only two uninjured legs between them, it seemed like every metre was a mile.

They were greeted with machine guns and Alex froze, until one of the boys, Ben, yelled from the back.

"Wait! It's Johnny and Alex! God, we thought you were dead!"

Alex laughed, a horrible choking, coughing sound. "Takes more than a land mine to kill me, mate."

Hands reached out and pulled them in to safety. Immediately, the sound of shells seemed to dim. Alex couldn't hold it together anymore. He was exhausted from spending hours battling against pain and unconsciousness. He fainted.

***

_A/N: Ok, so the start was a bit slow, but I needed to let you know what was happening, or I would have got a whole load of confused reviewers asking me what on earth was going on. Oh... speaking of reviewers... seeing as I was very nice and let you know what was going on, feel like reviewing and letting me know what you thought of it?_

_Actually, that's an order, not a suggestion, lol. REVIEW!!!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: So I haven't abandoned it after all! This has taken a completely different direction than previously. I think in the old story they were half way to America. Well it is almost 1 AM and I have just finished writing this, so you better like it! Actually, you don't. Just tell me what you think, ok? Next chapter will have Amethyst, David and our favourite assassin in it, I promise. For now... enjoy._

_DISCLAIMER: I don;t own Alex Rider. I am not making money from this. I am just playing with the voices in my head..._

_***_

He was awoken by the agonising pain in his legs. He arched his back in distress and was ashamed to hear whimpers emanating from his mouth. The pain rolled over him again, and whimpers gave out to a long, fitful scream. It hurt so _much_. How had he managed to get back to the trench?

"Shh, shh," said someone by his shoulder. "Hold still, I'm trying to get you're IV in!"

Alex forced himself to relax, though one of his legs continued to tremble uncontrollably.

The needle slipped into his forearm and Alex followed the tube with his eyes until he found the stand, with three different sacks of fluid hanging off it.

"What are they for?" he croaked, painfully.

"One will keep you hydrated, one is a painkiller, and one is an antibiotic. You might feel a bit drowsy, it's a side effect."

Alex gritted his teeth as a new wave of agony swept up from his legs. "How long... til the pain killers..."

"Until the painkillers kick in?" asked the nurse and Alex nodded. There was something familiar about her. She had wine red hair, which he was sure must be dyed and deep brown eyes. Where did he know her from?

"Not for about five minutes," she said. "Sorry."

Alex tensed against the pain again and nodded. He could survive for five minutes.

The nurse was already gone, required somewhere else to treat some other patient. It was the middle of a war – the hospital was overflowing.

Alex saw a man being carried in a winced in empathy as he saw the stump that had once been his leg. He was losing a lot of blood. Alex was sure he wouldn't survive the night.

***

The man who had lost a leg had been placed in the cot next to his. He kept moaning no matter how much morphine they gave him. He went silent about midnight.

Alex lay in bed staring at the ceiling in the dark. He wondered if he should get someone, but what was he supposed to do? He couldn't walk. He doubted there was a nurse within calling distance – there had been an emergency down the hall about half an hour ago and all the attendants had disappeared.

There was nothing he could do to change anything and he could feel that the man lying next to him, barely two feet away, was already dead. He sighed and turned his head on the flat hospital pillow.

He felt so helpless. He _hated_ hospitals.

***

The next morning, the nurse was back, checking his lines.

"How long until I'm out of here?" he asked.

"Normally, we'd keep you in until you were fully healed, but at the moment we simply don't have the space. We'll give you a skin graft this afternoon. You will leave in about a week and then will have two weeks leave."

She twisted her hand as she disconnected his IV to replace his drip. There was a silvery scar over her thumb, running right around the base. He stared at it.

"How did you do that?" he asked.

She glanced at it, apparently absently, but Alex could read the tense lines of her shoulders.

"Oh... I got my thumb caught in a pair of scissors when I was young," she said absently.

But Alex knew the truth. It really was a small world. But still he had never thought to run into Sabina Pleasure again, least of all working in a wartime hospital.

Would she recognise him? Probably not. She thought he was dead. It was only in films and, ironically, _his _life that people came back to life. The chances of her thinking of him and recognising the resemblance, which after almost four years wasn't that close anyway, was remote.

What should he do? Nothing, he guessed. Either she would recognise him and pass it off as a similarity or it would never cross her mind. He wouldn't blow his cover for her. Only four people knew he was alive: Yassen, Amethyst and David, who he lived with now and Tom, his former best friend who he had told the truth to right before he left, and hadn't spoken to since. It had been too risky.

Well, no. Actually, that wasn't true. Wolf knew too.

Briefly, he spent a moment wondering how Wolf was doing. Was he fighting in this war? He might already have died for all Alex knew. Being in the SAS was hardly a risk-free occupation. If he ever saw him again he would have to find a way to help him. He was stacking up quite a debt to his one-time unit leader. First Wolf had taken bullets for him at Point Blanc and then he had helped him fake his death and escape, disobeying his orders to do so.

Alex sighed. Sabina had already gone, leaving him alone to his musings. Now that the pain killers had kicked in he wasn't in pain at all. His main problem was boredom.

He sighed again and turned over. Sometime since he woke, the man in the bed next to him had been removed. He would probably wind up cremated without ceremony and placed in a mass produced urn. Alex hoped they had known his name. He knew that with modern weapons being implemented, the list of unknown soldiers was now longer than in any previous war. So many people grieving for relatives who were MIA with no gravestone to visit, no ashes to scatter.

***

Alex shouldered his military issue duffel as he climbed off the train. It was a week later and he was back in Germany. Surprisingly air travel between Europe was still relatively safe due to the efforts of the European Air Force – a combination of the air forces of the European countries involved in the war to allow them to work more effectively. Alex could only assume that it was working as there had been no plane-instigated bombings in Europe at all, with the notable exceptions that had led to the formation of the EAF.

The flicked his eyes his eyes around the car park briefly and they alighted on the bus he needed. It always surprised him how normal life could seem here, despite the events he had witnessed a thousand miles away.

Of course, there had been changes. Electricity was rationed – only on between eight in the evening and midnight and again from six until nine to residential areas. Factories and other businesses had special dispensation and had their own generators to 'keep the blood of the economy flowing' as one German minister had described it.

Buses, cars and everything none-military had been adapted to run on hydrogen fuel.

Alex loathed war, but he could hardly deny that it had pushed forward so many new inventions that the world had desperately needed.

He hated how greatest innovation and greatest creativity was always accompanied by greatest destruction, but it had been proved true again and again and again.

He climbed on board the bus and flashed his military ID to the driver. Soldiers didn't have to pay for the duration of the war. Alex had a feeling it was the Government's way of making up for the pathetic salary the soldiers, by necessity, received.

Half an hour and a five kilometre walk later, Alex was standing in front of a nondescript house, albeit slightly larger than the average house. It was situated at the end of a long winding lane and looked over fields in three directions and, in one, a lake. Alex had spent the entire of his first summer down there and had made friends with the teens who hung around there.

Most of them were dead now. Casualties of war.

Alex was distracted from his thoughts by a small figure bowling into him.

"Uncle Alex! Uncle Alex!"

Alex grinned. It was David.

_***_

_A/N: So do you like this story still? Is it worth me continuing with it? If you think so please Review and tell me!_


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Ok... excuses excuses. I really can't do that right now. My reasons are in Perfectly Normally, I'm just going to say I'm really, really, really sorry. Here's the chapter. The next one won't be nearly as long as I already have eight chapters written. In fact, I've had this written for ages so I'm not sure why it's taken so long... so I'm even more sorry.

DISCLAIMER: Nothing belongs to me. It all belongs to Anthony Horowitz.

***

Chuckling slightly, Alex bent down and scooped up the seven year old.

"Hey, kiddo. Kind of late for you to be up, isn't it?"

It was as well. It was already dark; he guessed it was about midnight.

"I was thirsty," pouted David.

Alex laughed, taking in his honorary nephew's appearance. He was wearing a pair of pyjamas with... dinosaurs... on motorbikes printed on them. He rolled his eyes and wondered briefly whether it was David's or Amethyst's choice. He guessed David's. Amethyst hated motorbikes.

Inevitably, his eyes were drawn down to the kid's feet.

"And it didn't occur to you that getting a pair of shoes before running out here?" he teased.

David looked down and bit his lip. "Oops."

Alex laughed. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and back to bed, ok?"

***

Alex smiled as David yawned and snuggled down under the duvet, already fast asleep. Alex picked up the book beside his bed and looked at it. He had been reading it to David last time he had been home. From the looks of it, David had been reading it himself since he left. Alex smiled and tousled the sleeping boy's head.

"Sweet dreams, tyke," he whispered.

***

The next morning, Alex was woken by sunshine streaming through the windows. For a moment, he was disorientated, then he smiled and sank back into the pillows. It was good to be home.

He heard the shower turn off down the hall, the noise not noticeable until it stopped.

He pushed himself out of bed and walked to the door, just in time to see Amethyst disappear back into her bedroom.

"I guess that means the bathroom is free then," he muttered and headed down the corridor.

It wasn't. Standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his bare chest, was Yassen.

"So you're home then," said Yassen, warmly, for him at least. Alex nodded.

His eyes flickered over the older man, taking in the towel wrapped around his waist and the smug smile on his lips.

"You know, I don't think I want to know," he muttered, pushing past Yassen into the bathroom.

Yassen laughed before following Amethyst back into their room.

***

Twenty minutes later Alex was downstairs, freshly showered and shaved and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. It was a relief to get out of military clothes.

Cautiously he pushed open the door to the kitchen. David was sitting at the table eating a bowl of cereal while Amethyst had her back to him.

"Yassen? Is that you? You always move so silently. Couldn't you at least try to make some noise, it's really creepy!" she teased.

"It's not Yassen," smiled Alex.

Amethyst froze and turned around.

"Alex?!" she exclaimed, delightedly, catching him in a smothering hug. "When did you get back?"

"Last night," smiled Alex, squeezing her until she began to struggle for air. Laughing, he let her go. Over the last two years, Amethyst had changed completely from how she had been. Finally out of danger and intrigue, she had relaxed. She was a year younger than Jack would have been, having had David aged twenty, but when Alex had first met her she had seemed bone weary, and far older than her years.

Amethyst gave him one last hug before sweeping across the kitchen to clear David's now-empty bowl from the table.

"Hurry up and get your bag, or you'll be late for school," she scolded him.

"Aw, but Alex-!" he protested.

"I don't care that Alex is back!" said Amethyst. "You still have to go to school!"

David pouted.

"How about I take you there, kid?" suggested Alex with a sly wink.

David grinned and hurried out of the room.

Amethyst rounded on Alex. "On that thing?" she exclaimed. "You have got to be kidding me!"

Alex grinned as she gestured wildly in the direction of the garage where his pride and joy resided. A 1098s Ducati motorbike. Alex loved it. Amethyst thought it was a death trap. David was desperate for rides on it. It was a severe point of contention in the usually peaceful family.

"Oh, come on, Thys!" said Alex, pouting. "It's not like I'm going to crash!"

Yassen gave off a brief laugh from the door behind Alex. He crossed to Amethyst and wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. "Come on, babe. Let Alex take him."

He leaned closer and whispered something in Amethyst's ear. Amethyst blushed.

"Ok, ok. You can take him," she said, smiling slightly. "It's not like I can say no know, is it? He's already waiting for you!"

Alex laughed and left the kitchen to find David.

***

For a few days, Alex did nothing but lounge around the house, reading and relaxing, playing with David and helping Amethyst, but on the fourth day, Yassen dropped a quarterstaff in front of him.

"Come on," he said, his face emotionless unless you knew him, but Alex could read the glint of the challenge in his eyes and the tense of a would-be smirk around his mouth.

Privately, he wondered how he had ever thought the assassin emotionless. He was human; he had the same emotions as everyone else, it was simply harder to read them.

Grinning, Alex picked up the pole and stood.

"Are you ready to be beaten?" he asked with a smirk.

"Impudent whelp," growled Yassen, pointing Alex towards the back garden.

Alex laughed and started forward.

***

The fortnight passed quickly in a blur of training with Yassen; the ex-assassin insisted that just because they had officially left the espionage business did not mean they should let themselves get out of shape. After all, who knew when an old enemy might discover that they still lived? But he was not constantly training. Amethyst refused to let the two of them remain "closeted away" constantly, and both men frequently found themselves employed around the house or land cleaning or mending fences or running around trying to keep David and the friends he invited over under control.

Often dawn found Alex and Yassen sneaking out to find somewhere away from housework and Amethyst's well intentioned bullying. Of course they always made it up to her in the evening by cooking and cleaning and generally leaving her to relax.

In other words, life carried on as normal. And if David was kept closer to home, or if Alex flinched at loud noises, or if they couldn't even boil a kettle until it went dark, it did not affect them so much. They were well out of the towns, with little sign of the war, except for the just-in-case bomb shelter Alex and Yassen had built in the back garden. It was a holiday for Alex, a chance to relax and remember exactly what he was fighting for.

But the weeks past too fast for Alex's liking, and all too soon he found himself back in the trenches, with David's laughter replaced by the unceasing shells exploding overhead.

***

A/N: Please review! I know I'm hopeless on updating, but it might encourage me!


	4. Chapter 4

**Ok, from now on this is going to be updated every Wednesday, because otherwise I forget about it. Oops. Well, hope everyone had a good Christmas, and have great New Year! Erm... nothing else to say really, I'm not making excuses because I seem to do that far too much for this story.**

**Anyway, onto the story...**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Alex Rider. Unfortunately, Anthony Horrowitz does, despite all my efforts. Kudos to him for coming up with the amazing plot and characters!**

***

The faces had changed, when he got back. Strangers walked passed as often as not and many faces were notably missing. He didn't ask where they were. He didn't need to.

He talked briefly to the Sergeant in charge of the stretch of trench he had been assigned to and found his dug out. Two metal framed bunk beds were crammed into the space. Alex had to stoop to avoid hitting his head and there was barely two feet between the two levels and not even that between the upper level and the ceiling. Alex was suddenly very glad he wasn't claustrophobic. Apparently conditions were a lot more cramped on this stretch.

Two men were already in the room, one lying on a bunk, the other standing in the corner.

"You our new roommate then?" asked the one on the bed, without opening his eyes.

"Yeah," said Alex.

"Try not to get yourself killed," he said, before turning over to face the wall.

Alex shifted his eyes to look at the man in the corner. He smiled wearily and crossed to the blond.

"Excuse Steve, ok? He's taking our last roommate's death kind of hard. We'd known each other quite a while."

Alex's eyes clouded in empathy. He'd lost friends in this god-forsaken war too, until he learnt only to care for those who were safe. There were only three people he cared for now. It was too painful to do otherwise.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

The man shrugged. "Shit happens. Nothing we can do about it."

Alex winced at the cold tone that had suddenly overtaken the man's tone and searched for a change of subject.

"So, he's Steven, and you are...?"

"Graham," said the man gruffly. "Been in this war pretty much since the beginning. Steve joined six months after me, once he finished his university course. We were in the same class, but I left half way through to come here. Bloody stupid thing to do, with hindsight. What about you? What's your story?"

"Half German, half English. Live in Germany with my sister, her husband and her son. Joined the English army division because I grew up there until my mother died. Been in this war for three months, since my eighteenth birthday."

"Facts," laughed Steve, harshly from the bunk. "It's just facts. It doesn't mean anything."

"It's all we need to know," said Alex, wearily.

They were all so tired. Tired of never knowing if they would survive the day, tired of wondering who else had died, tired of killing.

And so, so tired of grieving for the lost.

There was a moment's silence, then the rough canvas covering the doorway was pulled aside.

Another man walked in, around Alex's age with black hair. Alex blinked.

"Tom?" he asked incredulously.

"Alex?" said the boy, a smile breaking over his drawn features. "Jesus, never thought I'd see _you _again."

"Yeah, sorry about not keeping in contact."

"It's fine, mate," interrupted Tom. "Feel like making introductions?"

"Tom, this is Graham and Steve. Steve, Graham, this is Tom. He's completely mental. Be warned."

Steve didn't even turn over but Graham grinned.

"Hi. So, you two know each other?"

"We went to school together until we were sixteen, then my mum died and I moved to Germany. We just kind of... lost contact."

"These things happen," said Tom, philosophically. Neither of them said it had been very deliberate. Tom was a link to Alex Rider. Alex Walschmitt didn't have a clue who he was, couldn't have a clue who he was unless he wanted to risk MI6 finding him.

He glanced over to the free bunk. It was on the top. Without saying anything, he picked Alex's things off the bottom bunk and chucked them up, before sitting down on the recently vacated bunk.

"Hey!" protested Alex, from the corner.

Tom shrugged. "You didn't really think I was going to climb up there to sit down did you? You're the one who-"

He broke off abruptly. "Sorry," he muttered, abashed.

Graham was looking at them curiously but neither of them answered. Alex had thought of a cover for that particular slip quite quickly but he would have to give it to Tom to pass along. He'd tell him when he got him alone.

***

The days passed in a blur of explosions and shouts and at night fire lit the sky. There was never a moment to rest. Graham and Steve learnt that Alex's 'mum' had died in a climbing accident. Steve began to talk and Alex actually became friends with him and Graham, despite all his rules about not caring. The four of them actually began to be known as a group, and a lucky one at that.

Three weeks later, Alex was on watch. He peered through the scope on his rifle at the far trench. It was quiet today, no explosions in no man's land, though a few landed behind the trenches. His eyes were drooping – he had been up for almost thirty hours. There had been an emergency last night as a shell landed in the trench and every soldier had been needed to hastily repair it, deal with the injured and guard against enemies taking advantage of the chaos.

He only had an hour left before he was replaced. If he could just stay awake until then. A sound behind him drew his attention. It was a soldier. Alex thought he had arrived last week, but he hadn't learnt his name yet.

"The Sergeant wants to see you," said the young man nervously. "He sent me to replace you and to tell you to meet him in your dug-out."

Alex nodded and passed the man the rifle.

"You know how to use it?" he asked, gruffly. The man nodded.

"Good," he said before turning and walking off.

He ducked into his dug-out.

Graham, Steven and Tom were all there, lined up and standing to attention opposite the sergeant. Alex's eyes widened slightly and he quickly tagged onto the end of the line.

"At ease, gentlemen," said the sergeant. "I received a request to send my best soldiers to a meeting in London. It seems that you four have quite a reputation. You will be leaving in two hours."

"Sir?" said Tom.

"Yes Harris?"

"What is the meeting about?"

"I don't know," said the Sergeant. "I received the order this morning with no other information. Are there any problems?"

The four soldiers shook their heads.

"Good. Be ready to leave two hours."

***

Alex tried to push down his feelings of unease as he entered the room. There were perhaps fifty soldiers lazing around it. He glanced at Graham, Tom and Steve behind him.

"What do you reckon this is about?" he asked, quietly.

"No idea," said Tom. "You know as much as us."

Alex frowned. He didn't like not knowing what he was heading into.

"ALRIGHT!" Someone yelled. "Line up! I don't have time to waste on teaching you _children _how to stand to attention so you better be able to!"

Alex winced and leapt into his place of the line. Graham was on his right, Tom his left and Steve on Graham's other side.

The soldier – a real soldier this time, not someone who had joined the army with maybe a week's training – eyed tem critically. "It'll do," he said eventually. Alex took the chance to lean forward slightly and glance at the man.

He winced and pulled back.

It was Wolf.

"Of all the flaming luck," he cursed under his breath.

"What?" whispered Tom, next to him.

"It's Wolf," he hissed.

"As in SAS, Brecon Beacons, saved-your-arse-countless-times Wolf?"

"_yes," _hissed Alex in frustration.

"Hey! You think it's ok to talk down there?" called Wolf.

"No Sir! Sorry Sir!" called Tom, snapping back to attention. But it was too late. Wolf was already striding down the row.

"Damn right it's not ok! The head of special operations will be coming here to address you and you had better treat her with more respect than you just did!"

Beside Tom, Alex moaned. Just his bloody luck.

"If you don't-" but Wolf cut off mid rant when he came face to face with Alex.

"Cub?" he whispered, obviously startled. "What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be playing dead, not joining the army!"

"Yeah well what were the chances of meeting anyone who knew me? How many trench soldiers does the head of special operations meet, do you think?" he hissed, angrily.

"You need to get out of here," said Wolf, "Jones will be here in-"

The door at the far side of the room opened and Alex groaned again. Too late.

"Something the matter, Wolf?" asked a familiar voice.

"No, ma'am."

Alex began casting his eyes around the room, desperate for a way out. There were two doors, one being guarded by two soldiers and one through which Mrs Jones had just come. He only knew that one of them lead out; the other could have lead to a dead end, for all he knew.

He didn't have any choice. Every second he delayed Mrs Jones was coming closer.

He swallowed and glanced around once more. He didn't have a choice.

He sprinted to the door, launching an attack at the soldiers before he even reached them. It was probably a shame that they weren't wearing their SAS uniform. He wasn't expecting them to put up a fight and that cost him. All to soon he was on his knees with a rifle jammed into his neck.

"Alex Rider," said Mrs Jones, walking closer. "I thought you were dead." She turned to Wolf. "I thought that _you _killed him? Your unit was sent on the assignment."

"Most people don't like being ordered to kill a sixteen year old," snarled Alex.

"They are SAS. They do what there told."

"Obviously not," said Alex, sullenly.

"Well, I guess we have found our soldier," she said. "Bring him."

"No," said Alex. "I'm not doing it."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a suicide mission," said Alex. "If it wasn't you'd send an agent or a soldier, not pick cannon fodder out of the trenches."

"Look at it this way, Rider. You're alive. Therefore the death sentence on you is still active. If you don't agree, we could always just carry out the sentence right now."

As if to emphasise the point, the rifle was pushed into his neck, sending him sprawling. A foot came down on his back and a hand yanked his head up by his hair.

"What is your answer, Rider?"

***

**Oh, and can I take the opportunity to advertise the Reviews with Meaning discussion forum, based around, rather obviously, leaving good reviews, replying to reviews and trying to reduce the number of one or two word reviews. Basically, we have a wall of fame and 'How to leave reviews with meaning'. So if you all leave nice long, meaningful reviews, not just on here, but on other peoples stories and if you get yourself nominated, your name will go up there and everyone can thank you! (Ok we're working on the prestige, we swear. But wouldn't it be nice to get rid of "update" or "update please" or "Update soon"? It's nice to know that people like the story, but why do they like it? What could be improved? What is their favourite? Is it getting familiar to another story?)**

**Yeah... I've already posted that in Past of Shadows, but I thought I'd put it here for those of you who don't read it. Anyway, check it out!**

**Oh... and please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Happy 2010, if I haven't wished you it already. I'm even managing to stick to the Wednesday thing, so I reckon I'm doing ok. One of two resolutions is being kept, so fingers crossed that this continues. (My resolutions are update on time and leave nice long reviews when I read a story. Still working on the second, but I am trying here.) Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter, we actually get to the _plot_ in this chapter, instead of dwelling on the situation. I'm sorry it's moved so slow up until this point, but it should speed up now! Anyway, enjoy!_

_DISCLAIMER: Everything you recognise belongs to Anthony Horowitz._

***

He was dragged next door and handcuffed to a chair. He didn't say, 'this isn't fair'. He didn't say, 'you can't do this'.

Because the facts were that they could – and _would_ – proceed to make his life a living hell unless he did what they wanted, if they didn't just end it outright.

Mrs Jones sat down opposite him. He could still feel the barrel of a gun at the base of his skull, and thought that they were going a bit overkill. What exactly did they expect him to do while handcuffed to a chair with SAS soldiers guarding the only door which, inconveniently, led to a room with even more soldiers in? He'd have to be crazy to even try to escape.

Mrs Jones was still looking at him. It was starting to creep him out a bit.

"What?" he finally snapped.

"Was it you who helped Yassen Gregorovitch escape?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Alex tilted his head to the side. He had, but he wasn't about to admit it straight out. He'd probably end up with a bullet in his head.

"A life for a life," he said instead.

She frowned.

"I'll take that as a yes. Where is he now?"

Alex remained silent. He wasn't about to answer _that_.

"Rider, if you do not answer this question, things could go very bad for you," warned the woman.

So, this was an interrogation, was it? Slowly he began to count. Never lose control. Never answer a question without thinking it through first.

"Rider," she repeated warningly.

He felt the gun removed from his neck, only to have it slam into the side of his face. He gasped at the sudden rush of pain, but otherwise didn't react beyond flicking his hair out of his eyes.

"You won't get the information out of me, Jones, or have you forgotten what happened to the last people who tried to interrogate me?"

"I have not forgotten," she said calmly. "It is thanks to you that Scorpia is still barely operating within the UK, and not at all in London."

"Didn't stop you trying to kill me though, did it?" he snarled, caustically.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door and Wolf entered, followed by Steve, Graham and Tom.

Wolf threw a guilty look at Alex before speaking, "Sorry to interrupt, ma'am, but these three were disrupting the others. They wanted to know what happened to C- Rider."

"Rider?" said Graham, obviously confused. "His name is Walschmitt. Alex Walschmitt."

Jones sighed. "His name is Alex Rider and he defected from MI6 two years ago."

"Defected?!" exclaimed Alex angrily. "You tried to kill me!"

His Graham and Steve were looking at him disbelievingly and Tom looked worried.

"I'm sorry, are you saying that he worked for you? Aged _sixteen?!"_ said Steve.

"There were... exceptional circumstances. You are... friends... of his?"

The three of them nodded. She frowned thoughtfully.

"You will accompany him," she announced.

"No," said Alex forcefully. "No. You might be able to force me onto this suicide mission, but you are _not_ killing them as well."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Of course, we will not force them. I simply assumed that they would want to go with you, given how close you appear to be."

"Of course we're going," said Graham, authoritively.

"Good, now that that is settled, let's begin the briefing, shall we?"

"First, why don't you try removing the handcuffs?" suggested Alex with a glare.

"Well, I think it is safe enough to assume that you won't try anything with your friends here. Release him."

Alex massaged his wrists for a second after they were released, and flexed his shoulder muscles. True, he hadn't been tied up long, but they had hardly been gentle with him.

"You ok?" asked Graham.

"Fine," Alex assured him, rolling his shoulders.

"If you are done talking, perhaps we could move onto the briefing," said Mrs Jones, waspishly.

"By all means," said Alex, inclining his head calmly. A flash of annoyance crossed Mrs Jones' face, gone as quickly as it appeared, and Alex smirked inwardly.

"There is a young man in the United States. A few years ago, he became known to the CIA through his remarkable dissertation on the weaknesses in security systems, predominantly computerised ones. He based the paper on the CIA's own mainframe alongside the security of the American nuclear weapons – it might interest you to know, Alex, that the incident on Air Force one was also included, though the CIA are at a loss as to how he discovered it."

Wolf shot Alex a surprised look. "That was you?" he asked, his eyebrows rising. It was quite a while ago, but some things stick in the mind, Alex guessed. Alex nodded his affirmation curtly and the two of them turned back to Mrs Jones, ignoring the curious looks from Graham and Steve. Tom, obviously, already knew about it.

"Anyway," said Mrs Jones, loudly, drawing both Steve and Graham's attention back to her, "they asked him to design a system without these faults which he did."

"And what does this have to do with us," interrupted Alex, impatiently.

Wolf frowned at him, but Mrs Jones ignored him apart from a single raised eyebrow. She remembered his sarcastic temperament well. It was not something she was likely to forget.

"There have been rumours that the Americans are planning on ending the war by targeting Europe with nuclear missiles. Predominantly, we believe their targets to be capital cities, but also include the Hague, which – as I am sure you all know – is as good as the head quarters of the United Nations and has several institutions essential to the European Union."

"So you want us to go in, kidnap this guy and find out how to deactivate the weapons?" said Alex.

"You make it sound like a normal day's work," muttered Wolf. "Sounds more like the end of the world to me."

Tom looked at him speculatively. "You never did learn much about his missions, did you?" he asked.

"Shut up, Tom," said Alex, good naturedly, although the glare he sent Tom's way threatened serious retribution if he didn't

"It's not quite that simple," said Mrs Jones.

"Simple?" murmured Graham incredulously.

"The man in question was head of the resistance in Washington. He has been arrested and is currently being held somewhere in the city."

"Great, just bloody great," said Alex. "Who is this activist, anyway?"

"His name is Mathew Starbright," said Mrs Jones. "I believe you knew his sister."

***

_A/N: So did you enjoy it? Review and tell me!_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Yep – I'm updating on time again. Actually, I've got into the habit of uploading on Tuesday then just posting on Wed, but you don't really need to know that, do you? Anyway, onto the story!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: As much as I regret it, Anthony Horowitz owns Alex Rider. I'm simply having fun with his characters.**_

***

He walked as if no one would even think of stopping him, and no one did. If only it had been this easy to get out earlier.

When he burst out of the door to the outside he broke into a run. He had no clue where he was going, just that he needed to run.

But no matter how fast or how far he ran, he couldn't out run the almost unbearable grief that swept over him. Jack had been dead for almost two years and yet he still couldn't shake the guilt for her death.

It was his fault she was dead. If he had followed his orders, MI6 would have protected her and she would be alive.

... and Amethyst would be dead, David a prisoner and Yassen manipulated in much the same way as he had been.

And he felt guilty about even considering the possibility of acting differently.

Grief and guilt and guilt. All of it burnt a hole in his heart, a hole that couldn't be filled, no matter how Amethyst or Yassen or David tried.

Over the years he had learnt to hide it, but it never lessened, never went. He had learnt to live with it.

He realised he had come to a halt, barely fifty metres from the warmly lit building he had been in, and was staring unseeing into the dark. Footsteps behind him made him turn around and he recognised Graham's heavyset, muscular form approaching through the darkness.

He put a reassuring hand on Alex's shoulder.

"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Alex sighed, and sank down onto the dry ground.

"She was my guardian. She was killed because of me. Because of who I am and what I did."

"Why?" asked Graham, "Why is it your fault?"

"Because it is," snapped Alex.

Graham looked taken aback for a moment and the two of them subsided into silence, Graham sliding down to join Alex on the floor.

"So how did you get into this mess?" asked Graham.

"It's a long story," muttered Alex. "I guess you could say it runs in my blood."

"What, the espionage part or the getting in trouble part?" asked Graham, raising an eyebrow.

"Probably both," admitted Alex with a lopsided and slightly subdued grin. "My uncle died when I was fourteen. They told me it was in a car crash, but I didn't believe them. Turns out I was right – he was shot. MI6 then tell me that the skills I've shown in investigating my uncle's death are exactly the sort they're looking for and that all my hobbies and interests have been my uncle's way of training me, so they forcibly recruit me. Two years later they contact me again and ask me to become an assassin. I agree on the condition they keep Jack safe – that's Starbright's sister, by the way – but I mess up on an assignment because I know the person. I don't kill them and get them sent out of the country safely, but MI6 see it as treason and send SAS to kill me. Wolf came, but couldn't kill me, I don't know why. He helped me fake my death and I flee the country. Two years after that, I join the army and wind up here."

"They asked you to be an assassin after one mission two years previously?" asked Graham, doubtfully.

Alex pulled a face. "Four for MI6, two for the CIA, one for the ASIS, one independently and one privately for a member of MI6 who couldn't get backing from the higher ups."

"You sound busy," said Graham wryly.

"I would have failed my GCSE's if they hadn't dropped me when they did," admitted Alex.

"And what's the story with Wolf?" asked Graham. "He seems filled with his sense of duty. I can't imagine him abandoning it for a stranger, even if they were just a kid."

"I trained with him before my first mission," admitted Alex.

There was a moment of silence, then Alex spoke again.

"You're taking this awfully calmly," said Alex.

"I've decided that it's all a dream and I'll wake up in a few hours to find myself back in the trenches," joked Graham.

Alex snorted.

"Come on, we better get back. Tom is bound to be doing something stupid," said Alex.

***

Despite Alex's misgivings, there were no more surprises until they were about to leave for the night and then Wolf, in Alex's opinion, did something very, very stupid.

"I am requesting permission to accompany them on the mission," he said, snapping to attention in front of Mrs Jones.

Alex gave him a flat look. "Has everyone turned insane?" he asked, incredulously. "This is a _suicide_ mission, Wolf. We're all going to _die_."

Wolf turned to look at him. "How many suicide missions did you go on and come out alive?" he asked.

"I nearly died every time!" exclaimed Alex.

"But you didn't."

"That's not the point!"

"That's exactly the point," said Wolf. "And besides, I figure I still owe you for saving my life."

Alex frowned in confusion. "When did I save your life?" he asked, nonplussed. "We're even for the plane after Point Blanc. If anything I owe you one for helping me two years ago."

"Just think about it, Cub," said Wolf, quietly. "I'm sure it'll come to you eventually."

***

They made an unscheduled stop over in Germany, on Alex's request. Wolf had authorised the change so, as far as Alex was aware, Mrs Jones didn't know. He wasn't about to narrow down her search for Yassen if he could help it.

But as loath as he was to bring any sort of danger to them, he had to admit that if they wanted a chance of surviving this, they would need all the help they could get and _that_ meant retrieving some of the equipment he and Yassen had collected in the last two years – probably out of paranoia, but it was coming in useful now. With that and what Smithers had secretly provided (the box had rolled into his room one night of its own accord. The note attached had told him it was for him to distribute as he saw fit and he should not under _any _circumstances allow Jones to know of the box) they couldn't be better equipped.

But it was still a mission that involved going into enemy territory without being caught, somehow rescue a high security prisoner and only then would they find out what the mission really was. Knowing his luck, it would involve assassinating the president.

Even the best equipment in the world could only help so much when the chances of success were so slim.

When they arrived that evening, he left them in the jeep they had commandeered and went in. Amethyst was in the kitchen.

"Alex!" she said, surprised to see him again so soon. "You didn't get injured again, did you?" she asked, suspiciously.

He shook his head and began to explain.

***

_**A/N: And now you can go straight onto the next chapter! Yay! Aren't I nice?**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Now, Ive actually posted two chapters today – this is Chapter seven, and chapter 6 is the one previously. It was annoying me that the number of chapters it said I had posted wasn't the same as the number I actually had, so decided to change it and shift everything back to its proper place. Yay! So go rad the chapter previous to this, and then read this, and then REVIEW! YAY!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: All belongs to the magnificent Anthony Horowitz.**_

_*******_

He was halfway through explaining when Yassen walked in, scowling.

"Why," he began, "is there a jeep full of soldiers parked outside?" he asked.

Alex sighed and started over, not really registering that Amethyst had gone out to greet them.

In fact he was too busy making sure that Yassen didn't decide that the risk to his family was too great to allow them to leave to notice until she had shepherded them into the kitchen and quietly slipped away.

He looked up sharply at Wolf's startled oath to see the soldier reaching for his gun and, ignoring his instinct to pin Wolf to the ground, acted upon the first plan that came to him.

"Attention!" he barked, imitating the Sergeant from Brecon Beacons as best he could. Amazingly, it worked and Wolf immediately snapped to attention. Some things were rooted in the bone, apparently.

Then he blinked, confused and turned to glare at Alex, who looked back at him calmly. "You don't want to draw your gun, Wolf," said the teen, calmly.

Wolf's eyes flickered to Gregorovitch then back to Alex.

"He's an assassin," said Wolf, coldly.

"He's retired," said Alex. "And I didn't go to all the trouble of breaking him out of MI6 only for you to shoot him."

Yassen was staring at Wolf intently and Wolf slowly met his gaze. The temperature in the room seemed to be dropping by the second.

There was a faint creak as the door opened and David entered. Oblivious to the tension in the room, he crossed to Yassen's side and tugged on his trouser leg.

"Daddy," he mumbled, sleepily. "Will you come and read to me? I've been good like you said, I promise."

Yassen smiled gently and reached down a hand to ruffle the kid's hair. "I'll be along in a minute, son," he said tenderly. "Go and brush your teeth now. I'll see you in your room."

David grinned and made to scamper off, before he caught sight of Alex and the others.

"Uncle Alex!" he said, his grin widening before he turned to the others. "Who are they?" he asked, shyly.

"These are the people I work with," said Alex, calmly.

"Are they soldiers too?" asked David, excitedly, barely waiting for Alex's solemn nod before he burst out, "Cool!" and ran off doing gun imitations with his hands, his sound effects fading as he charged upstairs.

Yassen looked at him sourly. "Thanks," he said. "Now I'll never get him to bed."

Alex grinned unrepentantly.

Wolf, however, looked completely blindsided. Alex could understand where he was coming from. The first time he had heard Yassen speak to David, he had nearly passed out with shock. That the calm, controlled, emotionless assassin could speak like that was completely unexpected.

"Who was that?" asked the soldier eventually.

"David," said Alex, calmly. "You remember me telling you about him, don't you?"

"You never said his father was Yassen Gregorovitch," muttered Wolf, sullenly.

"So, why are you here?" asked Yassen. "I assume you didn't just pop in to say hello on your way through?"

Alex shook his head. "I was after the stash," he admitted.

Yassen sighed. "I guess we had better get kitted out then," he said.

"We?" asked Alex, surprised.

"You didn't think I was going to let you go on your own and get yourself killed, did you?" asked Yassen, raising an eyebrow.

"This isn't your job," said Alex stubbornly. "Amethyst and David need you."

"They've coped fine without me before," said Yassen. "They can handle a few weeks."

"Amethyst'll back me up here," said Alex. "You shouldn't go."

"Why are you fighting so hard, Alex?" asked Yassen, amusedly. "You know I'll win."

Alex huffed. "Fine then," he said, irritably. "You do down here and I'll sweep upstairs?" he said.

Yassen shook his head. "I've got to go and see David or Thys will kill me."

Alex grinned. "You are so whipped."

"And who was it who told her _in a note_ that he was joining the army?" retorted Yassen.

Alex flushed slightly and turned to the others.

"Feel free to help yourself to drinks, or anything, ok? I'll be back soon."

It took him about an hour to find all the weapons he and Yassen had secreted throughout the house. Many were in perfectly normal hiding places, such as under the bed in Alex's room while others – such as inside the boiler – were less obvious and not a little strange.

By the time he was finished, there was a sizeable pile on the kitchen table and Yassen had returned, claiming David was finally asleep.

"Tom, could you run and get the box in the boot of the car?" asked Alex, as he and Yassen began checking the guns to make sure they were in order.

"You get them all?" asked Yassen.

"Unless there are some you didn't tell me about," said Alex, shortly.

"Right," said Yassen. "So how many of these people actually know how to use a gun?" he asked.

Alex frowned at him. "Wolf is almost up to your standard, from what I remember, the other three know one end from the other and normally hit their target. As long as you don't ask them to do assassinations they'll be fine."

The door was pushed open by Tom, closely followed by Amethyst. Both Alex and Yassen flinched as her eyes swept over the weapons lying on the table and narrowed dangerously.

"Where, exactly, did all of those come from?" she asked and Alex was forcibly reminded of the 'calm before the storm'.

"Oh... well..." began Alex, "They were given to me by Smithers. For the mission, you know?"

"So," said Amethyst, picking up a gun from the corner. "This _isn't_ the gun you had strapped to your hip when you turned up on my doorstep? And _those_"- she indicated a knife and a gun lying together at the far end – "_aren't_ the weapons you bought to break Yassen out of the Royal and General?"

Alex winced.

"Well, you see, Thys," he began, thinking desperately.

"You lied to me, Alex!" she exclaimed. "And _you!_" she said, rounding on Yassen. "You told me you had given up for good! You told me you weren't going back into the business no matter what! And now at the first opportunity you go rushing back!"

Alex winced in sympathy.

"Would you rather I let Alex go alone?" the former assassin asked.

"I don't want _either _of you to go," she ranted.

"I don't have a choice, Thys, sorry," Alex said, trying to ignore the slight shudder that ran through her shoulders at his words.

"You shouldn't _have_ to go," she said, her voice becoming quieter. Yassen stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug as tears began to spill down her cheeks.

"It's ok," he murmured soothingly. "We'll come back, I promise."

"When's it going to _end_, Yassen? Do you think that, after this, they're just going to leave you alone? That they're just going to forget whatever hold they have on Alex?"

"I don't know, Thys, but for now... we just have to hope. Things will work out eventually."

"When are you leaving?" she asked.

Yassen looked to Alex, who looked in turn to Wolf, though only momentarily.

"Tomorrow," replied the teen. "We can stay one night at least. Wolf, could you call the pilot? Tell him something came up."

Wolf nodded.

"I'll make you all some dinner then. I assume you haven't eaten?"

***

Ten minutes later, Alex and the others were in the living room with Amethyst and Yassen in the kitchen.

"He's not like I would have imagined," said Wolf, eventually.

"I know," said Alex. "He wasn't like this when I first met him, either. She changes him."

"I don't know... He just seems too... human, to be an assassin," said Wolf, thoughtfully.

Alex scowled. "And do I seem too human too, Wolf?" he asked acidly. "What about you? I know for a fact you've been sent to kill people."

"That was for my country," said Wolf, stiffly.

"Really?" sneered Alex. "Mine wasn't. Mine was so my guardian didn't get thrown in prison for saving my life."

Everyone looked taken aback by the disdain in his tone and Alex ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just thought I was out of this, you know? I didn't think they'd be able to do this to me anymore. Guess I really will never get out," he finished morosely.

"You'll find a way, Cub," said Wolf, quietly. "I know you will."

_*******_

_**Please Review!**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: A nice, long chapter for you today. It actually used to be two, but not much happened so I joined them together. Two chapters last week and a double chapter this week? You better not get used to this, because I'm running out of chapters!**_

_**EDIT: Not just on time, but quarter past midnight. Impressed? Meh, don't be. I'm better at staying up late than getting up early. :P**_

_**DISCLAIMER: Everything you recognise belongs to Anthony Horowitz**_

***

They left at five in the morning, a sleepy Amethyst, still wrapped in a dressing gown, waving them goodbye from the doorway. They slipped across the country like ghosts, leaving no record of their existence and soon were back at the perfectly average hotel where they had left the pilot.

They were all kitted out with the best Alex could manage which included a treasure trove from Smithers, arraying them all with light-weight, non-restrictive bulletproof vests, top of the range guns and knives and a fairly large amount of explosives spread between Alex, Wolf and Yassen as the others didn't have the training.

There were no complaints and almost no questions, at least until Alex started to hand out packs of bubblegum. They all looked at him as if he was insane. He smiled slightly at the memory before turning back to the map of the States Wolf had produced.

"We can land here," the soldier was saying. "The town was abandoned after we bombed the sea wall, but not so long ago that looters will have managed to take everything. We-" he was interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. Everyone turned to look at it and Yassen and Alex withdrew their guns.

"Come on, Wolf, open up!" came a familiar voice. "I want to see if little double-oh-nothing really has changed to double-oh-something."

"Who's double-oh-nothing?" asked Graham, smirking slightly and Alex winced at the unwelcome nickname.

Wolf, meanwhile was staring at the door in disbelief.

"Open it, Wolf," said Alex quietly, his gun still prepped and ready in his hands. Just because it sounded like Eagle didn't mean it was.

"Yassen," he said, but the assassin was already slipping into the shadows with a nod. The last thing Alex wanted was another scene like the one between Wolf and Yassen, especially with no David to break the tension.

Wolf crossed the room and pulled open the door.

"What on earth are you doing here?" he asked as four familiar figures in SAS uniform barged into the room.

Snake shrugged. "Apparently the danger rating for the mission was lowered significantly when they gained news of the military withdrawal from Washington to support the front line. They think we might be winning."

"Which also," continued Ben, "Means that the importance of the mission increased dramatically as they think the president might launch the missiles when he realises he's going to lose."

"So we got authorisation to come and help," grinned Eagle. "Now where's Cub?"

Alex, whose eyes had been glazing in horror, quickly snapped his attention back to the room, just in time to sidestep the flying tackle Eagle had launched.

"Hi guys," he said weakly.

"Cub?" grinned Graham, teasingly.

"So would that make you double-oh-nothing?" asked Steve, smiling slightly. Alex flushed in embarrassment.

"Call me that and I promise you will regret it," he vowed.

Steve laughed and Alex smiled slightly. It was the first time that Alex had heard the man laugh, and also the most he'd heard him say after his initial meeting with Alex.

"It seems introductions are in order," said Snake, pulling Eagle up off the floor. "Hi Cub," he added, in way of greeting.

"Snake," responded Alex with a terse nod.

"You've grown," said the man and Alex raised an eyebrow at the inane comment.

"It's been two years," he said. The last time he had seen them had been when he was training with the SAS for his new job with MI6.

Wolf snorted with disgust. "What are you, his long lost uncle?"

Snake grinned in amusement and hauled Eagle away from Alex, who was intensely relieved about the fact, though he hid it well.

"So, introductions?" said Panther from the doorway.

"K-Unit, this is Graham, Steve and Tom. Graham, Steve and Tom, this is the rest of K-Unit, plus B-"

He cut himself off and paused. "How would you like to be introduced?" he asked Ben, cautiously.

"We're on a mission," said Ben, pointedly, "And working with the SAS."

"Plus Fox," said Alex, firmly. "Panther, Snake and Eagle are part of the SAS, along with Wolf, and Fox works for MI6. I met them while training. These layabouts," he continued, indicating his friends and turning to K-Unit, "are my dugout mates from the trenches."

"You've forgotten someone," said Wolf and the others started in surprise.

"Oh, right," said Alex uncomfortably. "And the man standing in the corner is Yassen Gregorovitch. Do NOT draw your guns. He is working _with_ us on this mission."

Instantly the four newcomers whirled around to face Yassen, who simply nodded in greeting from the shadows.

"Nice to meet you," said Ben, recovering first and extending a hand towards the one-time assassin.

"You too," said Yassen, cocking his head to the side as he took the proffered hand.

"This is going to make it harder to sneak across the country unnoticed," sighed Steve.

"Actually, it probably won't," said Panther. "Even with ten of us, we could hardly be called an army. We should be travelling at night and there's a curfew in Washington so no one should see us arrive except any guards that we can easily take out."

"I'm afraid we don't have any equipment for you," said Alex, apologetically. "We only took what we would need."

"It's ok, when he found out where we were going, Smither's equipped us personally," said Ben. "And," he added ruefully, "Left me strict instructions to keep you alive if I could. It seems he is looking forward to working with you again, Alex."

"I'm not working for MI6 again," said Alex firmly. "Not after this."

"If you're so determined," asked Eagle, tilting his head to the side in curiosity, "Why did you agree to this mission?"

The others shifted uncomfortably, knowing exactly what ultimatum Alex had been given.

"I have my reasons," said Alex, coldly.

"Aw come on, Cub," whined Eagle. "Give a little."

"As long as I'm alive the death sentence on me still stands," said Alex emotionlessly. "When MI6 found me I was given a choice between this and getting shot on the spot."

Silence filed the room. After all, what could you say to that? Especially when it was your bosses who said it.

"Right," said Wolf gruffly, breaking the awkward silence. "We take the helicopter to this town here. We find a car and drive it north to Washington. It'll take about twelve hours in total, including a six hour drive. I suggest we take off at about four so we land in America in the dark. Everyone ok with that?"

No one objected and Wolf turned to eye Yassen as if expecting him to complain about something.

"It sounds like a good plan," said Yassen calmly. "You did well."

Alex was fairly sure he was the only who notice the twitch of Yassen's mouth, as if to smirk, as Wolf snarled and turned away.

He sidled closer. "Please don't bait him, Yassen," he asked, "I actually intend to get through this mission _without_ the two of you trying to kill each other."

Yassen smiled and remained silent.

***

The flight was long. K-Unit largely decided to sleep through it, along with Tom. Graham and Steve were talking quietly at the back, while Wolf and Yassen were studying a map at the front. Neither of them looked particularly comfortable about working with the other, but Alex was simply grateful they were mature enough to put their mutual dislike aside. After Brecon Beacons, he had to admit he had had his doubts about Wolf.

Alex sighed and stared out of the window, leaning his forehead against the cold glass.

"Hey... you ok?" said Graham softly from behind him.

Alex pulled a face and twisted in his seat.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I just... I can't believe I'm back here, you know? Doing this again. I gave them everything I had."

He paused and his eyes fall shut momentarily before he regained control. "And if I don't die on this mission, MI6 will probably shoot me the moment I get back."

"I'm not going to let them kill you, Alex," said Yassen, looking over from his discussion with Wolf. "I owe your father more than that. I owe _you _more than that."

"Thanks," said Alex.

"How did you know his father?" asked Wolf, frowning.

"He trained me," said Yassen calmly and Wolf choked.

"_Your father was a contract killer?"_ hissed Wolf, rounding on Alex.

Alex laughed. "My father was a double agent."

"And so you owe him why exactly?" Wolf asked Yassen.

"He saved my life," shrugged Yassen. "He shot a poisonous spider off my throat. Best shot of his career."

"Saving a life a taking a life with one bullet. Not bad going," said Alex with a smile.

Yassen smiled. "I'd think you'd heard the story too many times if I hadn't only told you once," he said wryly.

Alex smiled. "I'm going to get some sleep. We've still got a couple of hours left yet."

Yassen nodded and turned back to Wolf as the teen lent his head against the window and slowly fell asleep.

Wolf frowned slightly.

"Do you really think they would try to kill him?" he murmured anxiously.

Yassen sighed. "You were the one they sent to kill the, last time. Do you really need to ask?"

***

They disembarked the helicopter, stumbling and bleary eyed, to what seemed to be a ghost town. Towards the shore, the streets were flooded and it seemed as if everyone had packed up and left all in one afternoon, leaving behind whatever they didn't take wherever it fell. There were still cars parked along the street, even.

Wolf didn't find this surprising, and neither did the other SAS, but Alex and the rest were forced to wonder exactly what had happened to make people leave so quickly. They didn't know of the rapid rise in sea level immediately after the bombings on the sea wall, nor did they guess at the collapse of houses into the sea as the land beneath them gave way to the constant waves. Only now, many months later had the sea finally calmed after rapidly regaining the ground it had been denied for so long.

Wolf frowned and scanned the street.

"Jeep, over there," he said tersely as the helicopter took off again.

It wasn't a jeep. It looked more like an old Land Rover Defender than anything, and it looked distinctly out of place among the now rusted BMWs and Mercedes that otherwise lined the street.

"I'll check it over," said Eagle, moving to the front of the vehicle in his signature careless jaunt. Privately, Alex wondered if he moved that way on the battlefield. It was hardly inconspicuous but might just confuse the enemies enough to stop them firing. Alex snorted at the unorthodox tactic. It seemed like something Eagle would try – until it got him shot.

By now, Eagle was straightening up, having proclaimed the engine old but serviceable and promptly climbed into the driver's seat. Seeing Wolf pale slightly at the sight, Yassen quickly made his way over.

"I'll drive," he said quietly.

Eagle opened his mouth to protest, but wisely closed it at the look on Yassen's face.

Moodily, he crossed to the passenger seat and Yassen insinuated himself behind the wheel.

The rest of them piled into the back. With eight of them, it was rather crowded in the small back of the vehicle, even after Fox and Panther ripped out the seats, leaving them dumped on the side of the road among the other debris deposited by the elements.

Alex was, unfortunately, one of the first to climb in, directly after Wolf, which meant that he just ended up getting crushed against the front seats as the rest of the soldiers pushed him backwards. Turning around, Eagle grinned and ruffled his hair. Alex would have punched him if he had been able to move his arms, as it was he settled for a glare that promised retribution later.

Sighing, he wriggled until he obtained a semblance of freedom, then lent back against the back of the driver's seat and tried to ignore the glares he was getting for elbowing various people in his quest for liberty.

"How long is this going to take?" he asked, wearily. This position was going to get old fast. If he had to stay in it for more than an hour, he wasn't sure he'd be able to move again afterwards.

"About six hours," said Wolf, shifting, and Alex jumped when he realised exactly how close his team leader was.

"Well that sucks," grumped Tom from beside the door.

"You're the lucky one," said Ben. "They rest of us don't have your leg room."

"Yeah, well, I'm probably the tallest barring Eagle and Yassen," shrugged Tom. "So comparatively, I've probably got less."

Alex snorted and Panther reached out and smacked the black-haired young man on the arm.

"Ow!" protested Tom, "What was that for?"

"Don't hurt members of your team unless it's necessary, Panther," reprimanded Snake.

"That was necessary," said Panther. "If I didn't, I think Gray or Steve was going to kill him."

"I wouldn't _kill _him!" protested Graham.

"I would," smirked Steve, making everyone laugh.

"Alright, may as well try to get some sleep," said Ben. "It's a long way and we don't know what it's going to be like when we get there."

***

Alex woke with a curse as he felt himself slammed across the small compartment, landing with an 'oomph' on top of Wolf.

"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed Wolf, promptly dumping Alex onto Snake, who firmly but gently, pushed him back to his place.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Yassen?" demanded Alex. "That bloody hurt!"

"I'm not driving," said the assassin calmly, from the passenger seat.

"Then who..." began Ben, before paling. "You let EAGLE drive?!"

"Hey, I'm not that bad!" said Eagle, promptly disproving it by taking another corner at what felt like a hundred miles per hour.

"For gods' sake, pull over!"said Graham, desperately. "_I'll_ drive."

"He's making good time," commented Yassen. "We'll be there in an hour at this rate."

"Yeah, and we'll all be concussed," said Alex. "Now make him pull over!"

"Aw, come on, Cub," said Eagle. "Live a little!"

***

They were all a bit shaky, when they finally abandoned the car, four miles out of Washington DC and prepared to walk the rest to avoid notice, but by the time they had reached the city centre, they had recovered.

Yassen and Alex scouted ahead, trying to find a safe, abandoned house for the others to stay in until they figured out a plan of action.

Wolf scowled, remembering his objections to their plan. The spy and the assassin had solved that particular problem by ignoring him and fading into the darkness like ghosts. Every so often, Alex would reappear, instructing Wolf to change direction, or to check they were all still ok. He'd been gone for almost ten minutes now, and Wolf was sure he'd reappear soon.

Their footsteps seemed unnaturally loud on the deserted streets and, while he would have preferred to keep his team where he could locate them, Wolf couldn't deny that having two lookouts made him feel a lot more secure.

That worked right up until he felt the cold, metal barrel of a gun pressed against the base of his skull.

"Hello, soldier," said a hard, feminine voice. "Time to come with us."

***

_**A/N: So what did you think? Review and tell me!**_

_**Btw... if you have a moment, could you do me a favour and hope on over to my profile? I've got a poll going on the name for the sequel to Dangerous, if any of you read that. The options are 'Justice Notwithstanding' and 'A Miscarriage of Justice'. Which I prefer really depends on what mood I'm in so I thought I'd leave it up to you guys. Don't let me down!**_

_**PS. If anyone has a better idea for a title, PM me and tell me. Something to do with Justice going bad would be good, I guess. If I like it, I'll add it to the poll.**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: Sorry I've posted kind of late today, haven't I? Well, it's still on the right day, at least. I almost forgot! Hope you like this chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: As usual, nothing belongs to me. **_

_*******_

They were dragged off the street at gunpoint by men all dressed in black. They were shoved down stairs and, in the dim light of a cellar, bound and blindfolded.

Wolf felt the dull sensation of shame burning in his stomach. How could they have failed so quickly? It wasn't just pathetic, it was downright humiliating.

"I thought you had learned better than to patrol at night," said the woman. "After you lost the last three I really would think you would take a hint. Until you return what you took, we will keep killing you."

Wolf growled in anger. He would not let some little bitch kill his team.

He struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give an inch. The woman gave him a look of disdain and for the first time Wolf looked at her – really looked at her.

She was little more than a girl, though war had made her grow up fast – he could see that much in her eyes. Vibrant red hair was cut brutally short and her ears were pierced but lacked earrings – too impractical in war, he guessed. Her clothes were loose and practical, though left no doubt that she _was_ a woman, despite her slightly boyish face. She was thin and lightly muscled – the type of build that comes from hard work when food was difficult to get hold of.

"Search them," she snapped and Wolf felt a pair of hands begin to pat him down.

Slowly, a pile began to form in front of the girl. Most of it was to be expected, guns, knives, explosives and such, but she raised an eyebrow at some of the things. Curiously, she reached down and pulled something brightly coloured out of the largely grey and black pile.

"Gum?" she asked, reading the packet. "Care to explain?" she added, turning to Wolf.

"Not really," he muttered.

She turned to a man standing in the corner.

"Do we need any extra information at all?" she asked. He shook his head.

Briefly she paled, then she nodded and looked back at the captives. Slowly, she studied each face, as if committing them to memory.

"Kill them," she said, finally.

"You don't want to do that," said a voice behind her.

She froze, her head tilting back as if she were trying to arch away from something without moving.

"Tell them to drop their weapons and untie my friends," said Alex.

"How do I know you won't kill me anyway?" she said, her voice tight with fear but impressively firm.

"You don't," said Alex. "But I could kill you right now and then shoot them before they have a chance to react." He stepped forward and almost lovingly pressed the gun to her temple. Wolf shivered at the completely cold expression on the former spy's face. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that he could carry out his threat.

"Put down your guns," she said, quietly.

"That will do for now, I guess," drawled Alex. "Now, some information, if you don't mind. Who are you and why did you attack my friends?"

She stayed silent.

"I'm warning you," said Alex, quietly.

Still she didn't talk.

"Wrong answer," spat Alex, whirling her around and flicking the safety off on his gun.

And then, right when he should have pulled the trigger, he froze.

Visibly paler, he stared at the girl.

"You're related to Jack Starbright," he said, cold certainty ringing in his tone.

The girl sagged. "She was my aunt," she admitted quietly.

"And what about your uncle?" demanded Alex. "Do you support him?"

The girl paled slightly and her eyes darted towards the gun still held motionless at her temple.

Alex sighed when she didn't answer.

"Well, gentlemen," he said, addressing the room. "You've had the good luck to be captured by the resistance."

Wolf swore. "So why the hell did they want to kill us?" he exclaimed.

"Well, gee, Wolf," said Alex. "You're obviously a soldier. And Washington has a curfew. Do you think that _maybe_ the government has soldiers patrolling this town? Do you think that maybe they thought you were them?"

"I guess that makes sense," muttered Wolf.

"Untie them," said Alex and was obeyed, after a brief nod from the girl.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Emily Starbright," she said quietly.

"Alex," he said, reaching out a hand.

"As in Alex Rider?" she asked, her face lighting up as she smiled. "Jack always used to talk about bringing you over for Thanksgiving."

"Really?" asked Alex, surprised. "She never mentioned it to me."

"As touching as this is," sneered the man by the door, "We need to get moving. It isn't safe here."

Emily started. "Of course," she muttered.

"We'll go in groups of four, two of us and two of you," said Emily. "The groups will be small enough to slip by unnoticed, strong enough to fight if they have to and all of them will have someone who knows where our headquarters are."

Alex nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Excuse me a second though, will you? I have to go and find someone."

***

Twenty minutes later, Alex and Yassen were reclining on dilapidated armchairs, while the rest of the soldiers eyed the men and women that made up the resistance warily.

"This isn't a good idea," said one man. It was the man from the corner before. He'd been introduced as Chad Davies, Emily's second in command until such time as Matt returned. Without him, they were at a loss, from what Alex could gather – no direction and no real plans.

Matt was the tactician, the genius behind the plans that had gained them so much influence in Washington and America. Influence that had been lost with his disappearance.

"You need our help," commented Yassen, calmly. "You're failing without Starbright. We can help you get him back."

"And what's in it for you?" asked Davies.

"Perhaps we could discuss this in private," suggested Alex.

"Private meaning..."

"Myself, Yassen, Alex, you and your second in command," said Wolf, quickly.

"Why you three?" asked Emily, frowning.

"Well, Yassen and Wolf are both incredibly good at what they do... and someone has to keep them from killing each other," smirked Alex. His smirk only widened as Yassen turned frosty eyes on him and Wolf outright glared.

Behind him, someone snorted, but all of them pretended innocent as Wolf's glare transferred to them.

"Ok, through here," said Emily and the four men followed her into what seemed to be a kitchen.

"Homey," commented Alex, glancing around at the faded flower motif on the walls and the pale green counters.

"Why would you help us break Uncle Matt out?" asked Emily. "And why are you here?"

"Ok, first off," started Alex. "Stop calling him Uncle Matt. You don't want your enemies to know if you're close to someone – they'll use it against you."

"Alex," scoffed Wolf. "You're being paranoid."

"No, I'm not," said Alex coldly. "I'd be an idiot not to learn from experience."

Davies muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath, only to find himself pinned under three accusatory gazes.

Emily closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.

"Chad. Please, please, please stop it. We need to work together. Insulting each other like kindergarteners isn't going to get us anywhere."

"We don't know if we can trust them!" exclaimed Chad angrily.

Emily sighed. "We can."

"How do you know that?" spat Chad.

"My Aunt practically raised him. Do you really think that he'd betray his country and Jack by helping our enemies?"

"You're just going to take his word for who he is?" asked Chad, still angry.

Emily sighed, and turned around.

"I know who he is," said Emily, obviously forcing herself to be calm. "I am asking you to trust me, but you do not have to. If you do not, you simply have to follow my orders. As you agreed to do when you joined us."

"Yes, ma'am," muttered Davies.

"Good," said Emily. "Now, how are we going to get him out?"

***

Twenty minutes later, they had got precisely nowhere.

Well, no, thought Alex. That wasn't entirely fair. They had ruled out a ground attack and an air attack because neither was feasible.

As Davies had exasperatedly pointed out, there wasn't much left.

Slowly, Alex ran through his missions, searching for anything that could help them.

"Come on," said Wolf. "You broke someone out of _MI6_. You have to be able to think of something."

Alex sighed. "Not that I can think of."

"How did you break into Sayle enterprises? In the labs downstairs?" asked Yassen.

Alex frowned. "I..."

"Wait," interrupted Wolf. "You were the man that took down Sayle? I heard that that mission had already killed one agent before they solved it."

"It did," said Alex, coldly. "My Uncle."

Yassen visibly winced. Alex tried not to look at him. In the one and a half years they'd been living together, they had discussed every subject under the sun, had talked about John at length, but neither had ever brought up Ian.

"Look," said Alex, raking a hand through his hair, "Do we really have to talk about this now? It's not the best time."

"Why not?" asked Wolf, frowning.

"Because," said Yassen and Wolf's frown deepened.

"Cub," he said warningly.

"Not now," snarled Alex and behind him, Yassen closed his eyes.

"How did you break in?" he reiterated.

"Through the mines," said Alex. "It's not going to work in the middle of a city."

"Maybe not..." said Emily slowly. "But what about the subway?"

***

_**A/N: Please Review! It'll inspire me to write and atm, I really need the inspiration!**_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: I have a confession to make. I've run out of completed chapters. Or at least, Chapter 11 is only half done. It's why I didn't update last week. When I get a day to myself I'll finish it and I WILL post next Wednesday, I promise! But if I don't... don't be too annoyed? I'm not good at writing to a deadline – normally the chapter is finished before I've even set a deadline._

_Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me._

***

Emily dismissed her men. Alex got the impression that, while they were fantastic at following orders, they had never really been called upon to help with the planning.

Davies had stayed for a bit, before Emily instructed him to go and oversee the men. Alex was relieved. Personally, he couldn't stand the man - he was too argumentative – but he wasn't the one who had to put up with him twenty-four seven, so he kept his mouth shut.

"So," said Wolf, turning to study the maps, the rest of K-Unit peering over his shoulders. "How are we going to do this?"

"All the entrances have been blocked," said Emily, frowning. "I was hoping that the explosives you brought would be able to blast through it."

"Not a chance," said Eagle, firmly. "It will be four feet of concrete reinforced with steel girders."

"Oh," said Emily, deflating. "So we can't go through the subway?"

"Now hang on a second," said Eagle. "They may have blocked off the stations and the breaks in the tube, but I bet they haven't thought about the emergency hatches."

"Emergency hatches?" asked Graham, frowning.

"Yeah," said Eagle. "They look like manholes, but instead of leading to the sewers they lead to the subway – they were put in, in case there was an accident on the line and the passengers couldn't get out. There's normally on about every two hundred metres of track. They're rarely – if ever – used because normally it's easier to either wait, or to walk to the nearest station. I'm willing to bet that only the people who designed the system remember about them."

Alex was staring at Eagle in shock. "How on earth do you know that?" he asked.

"Hey, I'm not just a pretty face, you know!" said Eagle and Wolf snorted.

"Eagle, there is no way that your face would ever be described as pretty. Sorry."

"No, seriously," said Alex, "How do you know it?"

Eagle shrugged. "I'm the mechanics expert of the team," he said. "I did engineering and architecture at university."

"Architecture?" asked Graham, smothering a smirk. "And you became a soldier?"

"Engineering," said Eagle, pouting. "It's useful!"

"Leave Eagle alone," smiled Fox, "It actually has been useful... once or twice, anyway."

Alex laughed and moved closer to the maps, deftly extracting one with the subway system marked on it and laying it on top.

"Where's the building on this one?" he murmured to Emily.

She studied the map for a moment, then placed her finger on a thick black line. "Here," she said. "The subway passes right underneath it."

"How deep underground is the subway?" he asked, turning towards Eagle, who frowned momentarily in thought.

"Anywhere between twenty and sixty metres in England," he said, finally. "I think it is generally around forty in the US."

"So we have about forty metres of foundation to blast through?" said Alex, dismayed.

"No, it's got three levels of basement," said Emily. "Our information suggests that prisoners are kept on the lowest level, anyway."

"So averaging the basement levels being about seven metres each, including crawl space, we would have about nineteen metres."

"We could shape the charge," said Panther. "We can bulk out our explosives with some of the homemade variety."

"We can drill through about fifteen metres, first," said Alex, "Then insert the charge. If we shape it right, it should knock out the remaining four metres _and _knock the rubble out beneath."

"Yeah, on our heads!" exclaimed Tom.

Panther shook his head. "We can fashion a fuse easily enough. I'm impressed you thought of that, though, Cub. Where'd you hear of it?"

"History of Warfare 2.0," said Alex. "They used it in the French revolution to blow up the mansions of nobility."

"Where on earth did you learn _History of Warfare?_" asked Wolf, incredulously. Alex just shrugged uncomfortably. He never had told Wolf about Scorpia, and he didn't plan on telling them now.

"Can't tell you, sorry," he said.

Wolf frowned slightly, but let it go.

"You've too many secrets, kid," he muttered, turning back to the maps.

Alex didn't reply. Part of him knew Wolf was right, but he'd never admit it.

Shortly after, Emily showed them up to the attic. The floor was scattered with large mattresses and there was a pile of bedding in the corner. They paused only to grab a blanket a piece before falling down onto the mattresses, exhausted.

***

Alex woke to find himself sandwiched between Yassen and Wolf, with Eagle and Tom on the slightly smaller mattress to the side and the others scattered around them. The other mattresses in the room were crammed with soldiers. Alex briefly remembered them coming in, but after registering that they weren't a threat, he hadn't really taken any notice of them, preferring to sleep.

He noticed Yassen looking at him and raised an eyebrow. The assassin jerked his head towards the door where, Alex now noticed, a small scuffling noise was coming from. It must have been what had woken him.

He tried to sit up, only to realise that his arm was trapped under Wolf's bulky form.

Scowling in annoyance, he rolled his eyes at Yassen then kicked Wolf sharply in the shin, covering the soldier's mouth with his free hand.

Wolf started and woke up, glaring at Alex until the teen gestured to his pinned arm. Wolf levered himself gracelessly up and Alex slipped his arm free.

Agilely, he pulled himself into a crouch and saw Yassen pick his way silently to stand on the far side of the door. Alex rose to mirror him.

The handle jiggled.

The hinges creaked.

Emily poked her head around the door and both Alex and Yassen relaxed.

"Emily," said Alex, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Morning," she said, coming around the door. She was holding a large tray and Yassen stepped forward to relieve her of the weight.

"I thought you might want to eat something," she said. "My men ate before they came up, but you went up before them."

"Thanks," said Alex as Wolf, seeing food, quickly began to wake up the rest of them.

"You'll have to stay up here until it goes dark and we have an excuse to close the curtains," said Emily. "All men have been sent to the front line and any remaining here will get sent if they get found."

"And what about you, when do you sleep?" asked Alex, frowning, noting the bags under her eyes for the first time in the cold morning light.

"When I can," said Emily, coldly.

"'When I can' doesn't work," said Alex. "You'll be no good to us if you fall over from exhausted."

"I don't have time right now," said Emily. "I've got women out looking out for manholes and ironing out flaws in the plan. I'll sleep when we have Matt back."

"Then you can stay here when we go to break him out," said Alex, frowning.

"No!"

"You don't have a choice," said Yassen, from behind her and Emily frowned.

"We'll talk about it later," she said. "Right now, I want to talk about the plan."

"Problems?" asked Alex, leading her over to their corner of the room and sitting down on the mattress. A moment later Graham passed him a bowl of porridge and he nodded his thanks.

"Yes," said Emily. "One in particular: how will we know when we are under the building? There will be no markers in the underground, no way of knowing where we are."

"A tracker and communication device could solve that," said Fox, digging into his porridge with the eagerness that could only come from someone who had tasted the food at Brecon Beacons.

"Yes, but we don't _have_ one of them, do we?" said Tom.

"Actually..." said Yassen and Alex rounded on him.

"Actually what?" he asked suspiciously.

"Actually... there's a tracking device in the necklace me and Amethyst gave you for your seventeenth birthday," he said, ducking his head guiltily.

"There's WHAT?!" yelled Alex. "WHY?!"

"Amethyst was worried. You kept disappearing with no explanation."

"You... You _followed _me?" yelped Alex, paling dramatically.

"Yes," said Yassen. "I have to admit I wasn't expecting _that, _though the girl was pretty. What was her name?"

"Fleur-Louise," muttered Alex, blushing. "I can't _believe_ you followed me!"

He glared around the circle of men, most of who were trying to hide smiles or – in the case of Tom and Fox – laughing outright.

"Can we get back to the mission?" he said, plaintively.

"Of course," said Emily. "How difficult would it be to wire a transmitter to locate the signal? And find a way to communicate?"

"Shouldn't be too difficult," frowned Panther.

"No, we should only need a normal radio, a bit of wire and a screwdriver," said Eagle. "Normal SAS radios should work for normal communication."

"I'll bring you the things up and you can start on it now," said Emily. "Oh, and try not to wake my men. They can get cranky."

***

_A/N: So, tell me what you think – and any suggestions! I know what is going to happen in basic terms, but still have to write it so all comments are welcome and will actually have an effect!_


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: Ok, please don't kill me! I really should have posted this ages ago! But don't worry, the fic is not abandoned – I would never do that to my loyal readers :P**_

_**So yeah, Sorry. I honestly have no excuse! You still love me though, right?**_

_**DISCLAIMER: None of what you recognise belongs to me.**_

By the time night fell, Emily's team had found a usable manhole just two streets away. Alex was to go on a recon mission tonight with Panther, the explosives expert of the team. He wasn't quite sure why he was going. He guessed it was something about placating Yassen who, as of yet, didn't trust anyone apart from him. He could also be the obvious choice as the tracker was his to start with. And didn't he just want to kill Yassen for that? Tracking him? Honestly? Christ, what happened to just _asking_?

He was just waiting for Wolf to give the go ahead. The situation in the group was an odd one. K-Unit and Alex's friends from the trenches all followed Wolf's orders without question, as they had been trained to do. So did Ben Daniels to some extent. But Yassen was firmly outside Wolf's jurisdiction and everyone who hadn't been trained by the SAS followed his orders even quicker than they did Wolf's.

And Alex, of course, only listened to them when it suited him.

He sighed and looked up as footsteps approached him. It was Panther.

"Wolf finally give the go ahead?" he asked, quickly pushing himself to his feet. Panther nodded and Alex sighed with relief. Waiting had been driving him insane. He turned to the pile beside him and quickly picked up a hand drill, the selection of short metal canes and the two shaped charges that Panther had completed an hour ago.

Panther quickly gathered up the other drill and poles, binding them to his back so he could move more easily. Alex quickly followed suit.

"Ready to go?" he said.

Panther nodded.

The manhole clanged back into place and Alex shivered. It was cold down here, and only going to get colder as he descended the ladder. Sighing, he started down the metal rungs.

Panther greeted him at the bottom.

"Which way?" he asked, pulling out a flashlight as Alex unfolded the map.

"We're here," said Alex, pointing to a black mark on the map. "We need to head north."

Panther nodded and, after checking a compass, headed off up the tunnel.

It took them three hours until they got a buzz of static from the radio and brief instruction that they were there. Apparently working with Yassen was making Wolf irritable, judging from the curt instructions.

"Alright," said Panther. "Start drilling. I'll do one four feet that way."

Alex nodded once and quickly unslung the poles from his back.

Three and a half hours later, they were back. Both of them were dirty, sweating despite the chill in the tunnels and covered with a thick layer of brick dust from the holes they had drilled.

"Did it go ok?" asked Emily.

"It went fine," said Alex, swiping a hand across his brow. "Perfectly. Now can we please go and clean up?"

"Ok," said Wolf. "But it's nearly dawn so you'll need to hurry. We'll debrief upstairs in half an hour."

Half an hour later, they were upstairs but, much to Wolf's displeasure, both were fast asleep.

"Let them sleep," suggested Fox softly. "They've already told you that the plan went perfectly. It's all set up. They drilled through fifteen metres of rock each, tonight, using metal poles and hand drills. Give them a break! They're only human."

Wolf nodded. "Ok, but I'm still going to yell at them tomorrow," he grumbled.

Fox simply smiled and rolled his eyes. Wolf would never change.

In the end, Wolf didn't yell because when he tried to find something to ask them about, something they should have told him but didn't, he drew a blank. All he really needed to know was that the job had been done correctly. It had been, so they were both let off the hook.

And Yassen staring at him when he had glared at Alex had absolutely nothing to do with it.

It was Alex who brought up what they were all thinking over breakfast.

"Does this plan seem a little... basic to you?" he asked, playing idly with his food.

"Simple plans mean less chance of something going wrong," said Wolf, gruffly.

"Yeah," said Alex, "But the guards are going to run towards the big massive explosion, you know."

"It won't be _that_ big," protested Panther. "Not from the surface, anyway."

"So you think that the guards aren't going to notice part of the floor caving away?" asked Alex, raising an eyebrow. "After all, that's what we're aiming for here."

"So what would you suggest?" asked Emily, tilting her head to the side in curiosity.

"We need a distraction," said Alex. "Nothing's going to cover it up, but if we launch a basic assault then they'll be caught up in that and so not so many would be able to come and investigate."

"So we have my men attack the building from the ground?" said Emily, incredulously. "It's suicide."

"Arm them with long-ranged weapons," grunted Wolf, ever the tactician. "And explosives. The buildings have only been cleared for thirty metres either way. They didn't have the resources to do more. Your men can shoot from the cover of buildings."

"So we have a plan?" said Emily.

Alex nodded.

"We have a plan."

Alex glanced quickly around the corner, one hand pressing Graham back against the wall beside him. They were in the middle of enemy territory here and it paid to be cautious.

"Looks like Wolf and the others are doing their jobs," he hissed, turning the corner and finally allowing Graham to do the same.

They say a good plan only lasts until the first clash with the enemy, and theirs had been no different. Had everything gone to plan, they would all be in one large group about now, but when it became apparent that the enemy had a lot more guards than they expected, Graham and Alex had hidden while the others led their unwelcome visitors away. This left the two of them free to discover the prisoners and to get them out. They had to be close now.

Ahead, the corridor turned again.

Alex held up a hand to halt Graham and repeated his precautions. He quickly jerked back.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

"How about both?" suggested Graham, impatiently, but just as quietly as Alex.

"Well, the good news is that we've found the cells," said Alex. "Unfortunately... they're rather heavily guarded."

Graham leant around Alex and peeked around the corner. The corridor ahead was indeed lined with very secure looking doors and each was guarded by a very intimidating man dressed all in black.

"What do we do?" asked the soldier.

"Stun grenade," muttered Alex, reaching into one of his pockets. "Maybe a few more than one."

The stun grenades were noisy, but hopefully with Wolf and Emily's respective groups both causing diversions, it would go uninvestigated.

Alex threw three grenades down the corridor with a smooth underarm throw, glad that MI6 had at least ensured he was well equipped.

Five seconds later there was a flash of light and three loud bangs and the two invaders ducked around the corner.

"You take that side, I'll do this," said Alex, calmly, surveying the unconscious guards and secure cell doors. "The bubblegum should work on the locks."

"Right," said Graham, eyeing the brightly coloured packs dubiously.

Alex found Mathew Starbright in the fifth cell, after several American politicians and high ranking soldiers. He had red hair – the same colour as Jacks – and was slumped in the corner of the bare cell.

"Who are you?" he asked, sullenly. It was obvious he had been fairly badly beaten, but was still coherent and – from the way he was standing up – relatively mobile.

"I'm here to get you out," said Alex. "Everything else can wait until later."

"How do I know I can trust you?" he said.

"You don't," said Alex shortly. "Why, do you have a choice?"

"Guess not," said Matt. "Let's go then!"

Alex nodded and pulled out into the corridor, just in time to see Graham open the last cell on his side and help out a series of soldiers in various states of healing and three tall, graceful women, one with wine red hair.

"Sabina?" Alex blurted in shock.

"Who are you?" she quavered.

"No time," said Alex, curtly. "Come on. We're breaking you out."

They found Tom, Steve and Eagle in the tunnels and began the long trek back.

But the soldiers followed them, which was how Alex found himself separated from the group with just Mathew and Graham, and a host of soldiers behind him.

"Quick!" he hissed, leading them down a service tunnel, almost invisible in the dark. They ran, sprinting as fast as they could, and slipped out of the manhole at the end.

Alex knew they were still being followed and took off down the street. His heart was pounding in his ears and he knew that if he couldn't keep up this pace much longer, then Graham and Mathew would be even worse off.

Time for a change of tactic.

He stopped outside a house and bent down by the lock. Graham and Mathew had gone a few feet past him then turned, staring incredulously.

"What are you doing?" hissed Mathew.

Alex didn't respond, simply working on the lock. It clicked.

"In here," he whispered, leading them through and shutting the door, just as their pursuers rounded the corner.

_**So what did you think? Did I do good? Or am I failing at being an author, slowly going insane and need to be carted off to the loony bin? Review and tell me! (And yes, Sabina is necessary to the plot. No flames and no death threats, please! If it makes you feel better, this is most definitely not a romance, in case you haven't already guessed.)**_


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Ok, so from now on I'm going to update FFH on Mondays, because otherwise I just seem to forget. Ah well, here's the next chapter!

DISCLAIMER: Nothing you recognise belongs to me. I am also fully amenable to letting Anthony Horowitz take Matt Starbright with him. I don't want him!

Alex pressed his back against the door, listening to the rush of feet pass the door and trying to calm his laboured breathing.

"That went well, I thought," said the red haired man, leaning on his knees and half doubled over from running.

"We got you out, at least," said Alex, checking the window and biting back the retort that of course it hadn't gone well. If it had gone well they would already be back at headquarters with no pursuit to shake off!

Graham moved further back into the room, heading for the door on the far side.

"We need to keep the noise down," he said a minute later when he returned. "There're a few women sleeping upstairs. No men."

"So not part of the resistance," said Alex, with a frown "And therefore not our allies."

"No," said Graham with a twisted smile.

"So, who are you, exactly?" asked Matt.

"I'm Alex and this is Graham," said Alex. "We're members of the British force and came over here on assignment."

"Alex and Graham who?" asked Matt. "And what assignment?"

"Alex Rider and Graham Bellamy," said Graham roughly and Alex looked at him curiously. It was actually the first time he'd heard his second name.

"French origin?" he asked.

"My grandfather," said Graham shortly, walking over to check the window again.

"Never knew," said Alex, shrugging briefly before turning back to Matt who was now sitting at the small kitchen table.

"So, Alex Rider," said Matt as the teen sat opposite him. "I assume you are _the_ Alex Rider. The Alex Rider my sister looked after?"

"Yes," said Alex coldly, his face closing at the mention of Jack.

"Which means you're here on behalf of MI6," said Mathew, his eyes hardening. "Oh don't look so surprised," he snapped to Graham. "Jack told me all about it. God knows the woman needed _someone_ to listen to her. You nearly drove her _crazy_ with worry. You should have just let her come back to America where we could look after her. But you were too _selfish _to let her go and so she's _dead!"_

Graham snarled and hurled himself towards Matt, lifting the considerably leaner man of the ground by his t-shirt.

"It's ok, Gray," said Alex, his face pale. He looked as if he was going to be sick. "He's got every right to be angry and we're on the same side now."

Graham hesitated and Alex sighed. "Put him down," he instructed, slowly. "We can't afford any noise, here."

Graham obeyed, but the scowl didn't leave his face.

"It's not your fault. I don't care what he says."

Alex sighed again and smiled sadly. "It is, but there wasn't anything I could do about it."

The spy stood again and went to check the window, relieved to see the street was empty.

"Leave it five minutes and we can leave," he said. "We should be safe then."

"So we have a bit of time," said Matt, putting his arms on the table and leaning forward. "Now, Rider, why don't you tell me how my sister died?"

They were greeted with tense smiles and sighs of relief, frantic hands pulling them through the door and into the warmly lit room. Alex looked around. There was something wrong. It was written on every face. But his thought was inerupted.

"Uncle Matt!" cried a voice and Emily pushed her way forward. "You're ok!"

Matt was roughly pulled into a hug and Alex backed away. He didn't want to be around Matt if he could help it. The man had made his feeling about Alex clear and the teen just wanted to stay out of his way.

He made his way to the edge of the crowd and saw his team standing in the corner. Eagle had a sling on his arm and Snake had a nasty cut above his eye, but apart from that they seemed fine, just a bit banged up. Graham was already there, greeting Tom with a frown, a frown which Alex mirrored as Tom grinned at him from behind his black eye. It looked surprisingly painful.

He began to make his way over, when a hand grabbed him.

Roughly pushing down his instinct to take down first and ask questions later, he turned around.

"You let me believe you were dead!"

He winced.

"Sabina," he said.

"Don't you 'Sabina' me!" she screeched. "Why didn't you _tell_ me? I grieved for you. Hell, I flew in from _San Francisco _to go to your funeral!"

Alex winced again and a cold voice rose from the silent audience.

"Do you ever think of others Rider? Or are you completely uncaring about the pain you cause."

Alex visibly bristled and span to face Mathew.

"You don't know anything about me, so just shut the fuck up!" he hissed, viciously.

"I'm going for a run," he added with a glance at Wolf. He didn't even wait for a response before pushing his way through the crowd and ducking out of the door and back into the night.

"That was unnecessary," commented Emily, eyeing Matt disappointedly.

"That man is the reason my sister is dead!" spat Matt angrily.

"Your sister chose to look after him," said Yassen, his voice deathly quiet. "She knew the risks. You cannot blame Alex for that. He did everything he could to protect her. It's not his fault that MI6 abandoned her."

"_Because of him!"_

"Don't you think he's got enough shit to deal with without you adding to it?" spat Wolf. "Now if you don't mind I'm going to go and find him."

"I'm coming with you," said Yassen.

"No you're fucking not," growled the soldier, stalking passed the blond.

"I know him better than you," said Yassen. "You'll never find him on your own."

Wolf paused and glowered at him for a moment before relenting.

"Fine," he said, grumpily, turning on his heel.

"Gods, I hope we find him quickly," he muttered.

Alex had found his way to the rooftops when they finally tracked him down. He had known they would eventually, but the last few hours of darkness had given him time to cool down and think. Of course Matt would blame him and of course he would be angry at Alex, but that didn't mean he was right. It was no more his fault than it had been before. If he could deal with remembering what he had done to Jack every day, he could deal with Matt blaming him.

All too soon two figures pulled themselves up and sat down, one on either side. Alex didn't flatter himself by thinking it was anything about him – the two just wanted to be as far away from each other as possible.

"So you found me then," he said, dully.

"We found you," confirmed Yassen, resting his arms on his knees and looking out over the rooftops, as Alex had been.

"You ok, kid?" asked Wolf, mirroring the assassin, save for a hand resting on Alex's shoulder.

Alex shrugged it off. He wasn't overly comfortable with physical contact.

Wolf shifted, suddenly embarrassed.

"I'm fine," said Alex in the same flat tone.

"Ignore Starbright," said Wolf. "He's just a jackass."

"He's grieving for his sister. He's angry and he's looking for someone to blame," said Alex.

"You're too reasonable by far," commented Yassen.

Alex snorted.

"Sun's coming up," said the teen, looking at the distant horizon. Idly he wondered how far away the horizon was. It should be possible to work out using the curvature of the earth and speed of light or some shit. Not like he'd ever get the chance, though.

"We'd better get back," said Wolf, standing up.

"You're not going to tell me are you?" said Alex quietly. "You're both thinking about it, but you don't want to tell me."

"Tell you what?" asked Wolf, shifting uncomfortably, but Alex was already thinking back. Tom, Graham, Emily, Yassen, Wolf, K-Unit, even Chad had been there, along with a crowd of Emily's men. But someone was missing. Someone important.

Alex's eyes snapped up to look at the two men standing in front of him.

"Where's Steve?"

A/N: Oh, sorry, that's rather an evil cliffy, isn't it? You reckon Steve's alive? I mean, on a mission as dangerous as that, what are the chances fo everyone getting out alive?

Review and tell me what you thought!


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: so, yeah, this was supposed to be posted yesterday, which obviously didn't happen. Sorry. Really, I am. I fully intended to post, but my parents leaving the house, the animals and myself(Not to mention my elder brother and his friend) in my not so capable hands kind of had me distracted. But it's here! I know it's short, and there was something I wanted to add, but it was such a good stopping place! So please, please, don't be mad!**_

_**How about to make up for it, I start posting Pro Patria Mori on Fridays? When I don't have a one-shot or something for TDDUP to post, anyways?**_

_**Yeah, Pro Patria Mori won the poll on my profile hands down. I guess you guys really like SAS fics, huh? The good news on that fic is that I already have 15 chapters written. (Actually, that's pretty pathetic seeing as how I started it about the same time as Perfectly Normal, but in my defence I have lost it more times than I can count!)**_

_**So yeah, I think I've babbled on enough... here's the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: Nothing belongs to me.**_

Steve wasn't dead. Alex had been so relieved when Yassen and Wolf had reassured him.

Then he had learned what had happened.

Steve had been at the back of the group and taken a bullet in the hip. When Tom was helping him run, he had taken another in the leg. They had sewn up the wounds, fixed the damage as best as they could, but they had no medical equipment, no anaesthetic, no antibiotics, no specialised stitches, just thread and a heated needle. It wasn't even properly sterilised. The chances of infection were exceedingly high, and Steve would have to fight it off on his own.

So far, there was no sign of infection, but the nurses were scared that he could go into shock from the continuous pain and the high blood loss. They couldn't even give him a transfusion, not having the equipment or information on his blood type.

Alex found Graham sitting on a mattress beside Steve. The injured man was unconscious and ghostly white. There was a bandage wrapped tightly around his left leg, just above his knee, and another one around his hips. They weren't as crisp and white as the bandages from hospital would be, but they looked clean, at least. They could only hope it would be enough.

Alex sat down on the next mattress over, his knees just a few inches from Graham's, and reached out to rub the man's shoulder comfortingly.

"Steve's strong," he said, quietly. "He'll pull through."

Graham looked up, fear and pain obvious on his face. "I can't lose him, Al," he whispered brokenly. "He's always been there – through everything."

"He'll be ok," said Alex, fixing his eyes intensely on Graham, as if he could force the man to believe him through the force of his gaze alone. "We may not have medical equipment, but we have nurses. They have one patient to care for and nothing else to distract them. We're not going to let him go yet.

Graham nodded miserably and Alex pulled him into a hug. Screw the rules of espionage. Graham needed this.

The soldier buried his head in Alex's shoulder and sobbed.

Despite his best intentions, Alex still found Mathew Starbright could make him angry no matter what. The man knew exactly what buttons to press, playing off Alex's old teenage insecurities, insecurities that he thought he had grown out of in the last two years, but apparently not. It was three days later when Alex had sat him down, in private and confronted him.

"I know you don't like me," said Alex. "Hell, if I were you, I wouldn't like me either. But we have to work together and we don't have time for your childish temper tantrums."

"Temper tantrums?" exclaimed Mathew, outraged.

"Prove me wrong," said Alex. "Prove to me it's deliberate and premeditated – that you're not completely out of control and a liability."

"How do I do that?" asked Mathew, his eyes narrowing.

"You prove you can control them – you stop."

"So either way I stop," sneered Matt. "Can't take a few home truths, Rider?"

"Either that or I just beat it out of you," said Alex carelessly. Mathew's mouth snapped shut.

Alex waited for a minute, but nothing was forthcoming.

"Great," he said, smiling, "Now that we've got that out of the way, let's get down to business, shall we?"

"What business?" asked Mathew, his face blank.

"We didn't come here because you're head of the resistance," said Alex quietly. "We're here because you designed the American security system and we need a way in – to stop the launch of nuclear missiles."

Mathew blanched.

"Christ," he whispered, all the usual antagonism vanishing from his tone. "You really think they will?"

"MI6 do," said Alex, grimly. "Is there a way?"

Matt slowly shook his head. "I don't think so," he said, sighing. "I covered every eventuality I could."

"What about cutting the power? Or a backdoor? A password? Anything!"

Matt shook his head. "No. The power has a dozen backup generators, all in completely secure locations themselves and I was employed to get rid of backdoors! The only way to access it completely is to have the key card and the sixteen digit password which only three people know. The fingerprint scanner is only if you are launching the missiles so you don't need to worry about that, but still!"

"You said completely," said Alex.

"Incomplete it just used for people in the FBI and CIA to insert data and such; it's on a completely different level to the weapons."

"So no way in there then," said Alex with a scowl. "What about changing the fingerprint?" he asked. "Are there any fail safes in case it needs to be changed without the previous prints?"

"Of course," said Matt.

"And what is that?" asked Alex.

"All three people have their prints scanned and recorded," said Matt. "If you need to change one without the previous prints, the other two prints must be used."

"Who are the other two prints?" asked Alex, cautiously.

Matt spread his hands helplessly. "Before... it was Bryne and... what's-his-name... the vice-president."

"Faulkner," supplied Alex curtly, raising an eyebrow in disbelief that Matt actually couldn't remember.

"That's the one," said Matt.

"And have they changed?" asked Alex.

"I would assume that Bryne has gone. The man was replaced, after all."

"And Faulkner?" enquired Alex.

"Not a clue," said Matt. "I know he kept his job – mainly by keeping his head down and giving in to that psycho."

Matt stared at the calculating expression that had suddenly overtaken Alex's face.

"What are you planning?" he asked warily.

"We need to get our hands on the vice-president," said Alex, calmly.

"And how exactly are you going to do that?" sneered Matt. "Just walk up and ask politely?"

"Of course!" grinned Alex. "And when that doesn't work... we'll kidnap him."

_**A/N I did warn you about the pathetic length. Sorry. But yeah review and tell me what you thought, anyway! Any suggestions on how Alex should kidnap the vice president? Lol.**_

_**Anyway, I am going to sleep because I plan on being at the gym for half six tomorrow morning. (I'm not entirely sure why. My body is still punishing me for Monday. Ah well.)**_

_**Night!**_

_**And don't forget... REVIEW!**_


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: OMG so excited – went shopping today and now have an entire stack of books to read :D. Largest would be the complete works of Shakespeare, which I don't think I'll be reading all at once, somehow, but I also have Rapture, by Duffy (that's poetry btw), A book on the Buddha, Brother's Grimm Fairytales (I couldn't resist. I'm a sucker for fairytales and myths etc.) and the fifth part of the trilogy for Hitchhikers Guide. Plus a new sketchbook and the New Scientist Magazine. :D Ah, happy days. And it all cost me under £15. :D Got to love second hand book shops, yeah? Even better, was a charity book shop, so I don't have to worry about supporting big corporations or any of that moralistic stuff that people tend to babble on about. No-one has a problem with Barnados, do they? **

**In summary – you're lucky I already had this written or I'd be disappearing for a few weeks!**

**Sorry, just had to share my excitement. Lol. I know, I'm a complete geek. Anyone got any suggestions on which Shakespeare play I should read first? I know Macbeth, Midsummer Night's Dream, Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet quite well, so not them immediately, but apart from that, I would love recommendations!**

**Anyways, sorry about that (again). Onto the story!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**(Yeah, I know, my disclaimers are getting pretty boring, but I'm pretty sure you skip over them anyways by now. Hence the reason I could ramble about my excitement earlier: because no one is actually going to read it, are you? You're all too eager for the chapter. Oh god, I'm babbling again! Sorry!)**

**-o-O-o-**

Alex was ashamed to admit that he had been avoiding Sabina. It hadn't been difficult, admittedly, given the fact that she had volunteered to take a shift watching over Steve and the other two injured men from Emily's – now Matt's – team. This just so happened to be during the day time when the men were confined to the attic. Alex may or may not have had something to do with that.

But despite his skilful avoidance, he was mature enough to realise that he owed her an explanation. He was a bloody spy, for gods' sake. He had faced down numerous psychopaths and saved the world more times than he could easily count, so why was he avoiding a conversation with someone who was absolutely not a threat to him.

He did owe her big time. First for saving his life on the beach and secondly for dragging her into that mess with Cray.

He hadn't had that many people who cared about him when he faked his death, surely he could have remembered to tell her?

But then, Sabina had never been a good actor. Tom could pull off grieving for his friend, Sabina couldn't have. And Alex couldn't afford to have anything that might hint he wasn't dead. MI6 were suspicious enough as it was, what with Wolf claiming he had shot him, then the clean up team only finding blood and a message from Scorpia.

He'd nearly did from blood loss that day and had spent the next twelve hours holed up in Wolf's apartment hooked up to a bag of O negative. He still had the scar on his arm. Still didn't know where Wolf had gotten the blood, come to that.

What were the chances that Sabina would see reason?

Well, she'd never been completely irrational. That was a bonus.

Of course... she'd seemed pretty upset. She'd gone to his funeral, apparently. _Grieved_ for him, if you would. That wouldn't exactly endear him to her.

Fuck.

Well, there was only one way to find out. He'd have to speak to her.

He first got the opportunity first thing in the morning, when he was supposed to be trooping upstairs to join the other men on the mattresses.

"Sabina," he said, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "Can we talk?"

She looked at him coolly. "Alright."

He led them into one of the bedrooms. It was still early enough that it wouldn't look suspicious that the curtains were closed.

"I... I wanted to apologise," he said eventually. "It wasn't fair of me to leave you in the dark."

"No," she said, "It wasn't."

"But, you understand why I had to do it, right?" he said, desperately. "If MI6 had found out I was still alive..."

"They would have what?" she asked, coldly, "Made you go on another mission? Made you act like exactly what you _are_? You're a spy, Alex. Through and through! Even if they left you alone you would have been doing something dangerous!"

Ale winced slightly. It had been true when she knew him.

"That's not fair," he said. "And not true."

She raised an eyebrow disbelievingly.

He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair and sitting down on the bed.

For a long moment, they were silent.

"They would have killed me," he admitted, quietly. "They sent Wolf to do it."

Sabina paled.

"Oh, Alex," she sighed, sitting down next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He tried not to tense under her touch. From the way her arm dropped back to her side, he didn't think he had succeeded.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"It's fine," he said, though in reality the betrayal still stung. "I got out. I spent two years living the good life until this whole thing came up. I just disappear again at the end of this and they can't do anything to me."

She smiled slightly. "Keep in touch this time, yeah?"

"I'll try."

-o-O-o-

The plans for president-napping (as it had been so aptly named by Tom) were coming along nicely.

The vice-president lived in an old house not far from where he worked. They had almost immediately ruled that out. There were too many variables. His wife and kids were there. As was a whole bunch of security. It could get... messy.

When travelling, he moved in a rather ordinary-looking sedan, but despite its unassuming appearance, the vehicle had more in common with an armoured tank than a regular car.

This, unfortunately, meant that the only place left for them to get to him was his place of work.

Luckily, that had been moved to a supposedly secret location after the resistance's attack to retrieve Matt. If they had asked Alex, he would have told them that keeping a location where so many people work a secret was implausible at best.

It took Alex and Yassen two days to discover its whereabouts by following various known employees, but they still needed more information. Normally, Alex would suggest kidnapping an employee for the information, but they couldn't afford to alert the enemy to a potential security leak.

Therefore, they had to develop a different plan.

Mathew, Wolf, Yassen, Alex and Emily were sitting in the kitchen. Most of the women were asleep, the men either out on patrol or taking their turn in looking after the upkeep of the house. Their spirits had lifted with the return of their leader, but slowly despondency was reasserting itself. It was becoming more and more important to secure at least a partial victory to raise morale.

"What we need," said Alex frowning at the table, "Is blueprints."

"And I suppose you're just going to pull them out of thin air?" sniped Matt.

"That isn't _helping_ uncle," said Emily.

Alex really was getting a headache from that mode of address. Not only was Matt only about eight years older than his niece, but it wore on his very last nerve to hear someone declaring their familial relationship to the world. Especially in this situation. Was he allied with complete idiots?

And he didn't like the word uncle.

He'd never used it with Ian, had he?

He scowled and pulled his attention back to the room.

Yassen was looking at him thoughtfully, but everyone else's attention was focused on Emily still.

"-break in and find them."

"I'm sorry?" said Alex. "I zoned out there for a minute."

"We know where the blueprints of buildings are kept," repeated Emily, a little irritated. "We just need to break in and get them."

"Yassen's up for a little thievery, aren't you?" said Alex, turning to the Russian.

"Of course," said Yassen. "It will take one night with the correct information."

"And what will you be doing, Rider? Cowering in the attic?"

Alex sighed. "You really need to get your insults straight, Starbright," he said. "I can't be both a reckless adventurer who got your sister killed and a coward who hides in attics."

Matt flushed.

"And no, I won't be cowering in the attic. There are two things you need to conduct a kidnapping. Yassen is finding the perfect location, while _I_ will be busy finding the time."

**-o-O-o-**

**A/N: Hmm, I hope these dividing lines work now, I've tried so many things and they just keep disappearing. Anyone know why that's happening? It's rather irritating.**

**Oh, and don't forget to review!**


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: So yeah, I know this is very late. I really have no excuse. Sorry. Anyways, here is the next chapter. And you really should thank Khadija, for reminding me that this should have been put up weeks ago!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise.

Now, onto the story!

_**-o-O-o-**_

They hit a block pretty quickly, once Yassen obtained the blueprints. Alex's original plan had been to bug the building, and indeed the air vents that passed through almost every room would have been perfect for this. Unfortunately, he had overlooked the fact that while normally he would have access to an almost infinite amount of inconspicuous microphones and cameras, here he had almost none, certainly not enough to bug the entire building and what they did have were supplied by the resistance from what they could steal, or develop themselves. Definitely not up to the standard Alex had been used to with MI6.

But, he thought, looking at the plans, there might be an alternative. He sighed. He would have to talk to Matt. What a fantastic start to the day.

Scowling, he silently manoeuvred himself of the double mattress he was sharing with Yassen and Tom, because only Alex was trusted enough by Yassen to sleep in such close proximity to him – not that anyone apart from Alex would trust Yassen enough in turn – and Tom because he'd been last up and had chosen the mattress with the most room left. As Alex was probably the least broad of the men in there, that was his mattress. At least, that was the reason Tom gave. For some reason, Alex was convinced Tom just liked to irritate him.

Yassen stirred as Alex's weight was removed from beside him, but with a hushed reassurance from Alex, he was drifting off again, rolling over to take advantage of the extra space.

Slowly, Alex began to pick his way across the many occupied mattresses, to where Matt's red hair was just visible above a thin blanket.

"Matt," he hissed. "Matt! Wake up!"

"Whazza...? Alex?" murmured Matt, rolling over. Apparently he was too sleepy for animosity.

"You're a computer hacker, right?" whispered Alex, kneeling down next to the older man so he wouldn't wake the others. Matt had somehow managed to commandeer one of the few, sought after, single mattresses.

"'m a 'puter _pr'gramm'r_," slurred Matt, somehow still managing to sound vaguely insulted.

"Same thing, isn't it?" asked Alex, slightly irritably.

"Not exac'ly."

"But you can do it, right?"

"Yeah..."

"I need to you to hack into the security of the building and get us live feeds."

Matt gripped his wrist and stared at him, apparently shocked out of sleep.

"Talk about it in the morning," he hissed. "Can't spring something like that on a guy when he's sleeping."

"You mean night," said Alex, with an amused glance over the single dirty skylight that lit the gloomy attic.

Matt growled. "Go to sleep."

Alex sighed and began to withdraw only to find his wrist firmly trapped by the now-sleeping Matt.

He didn't seem bout to let go anytime soon.

"Bugger," cursed the blond, with feeling.

Fruitlessly, he tried to tug his stolen appendage, but all the effect it had, was to make Matt mumble and turn over, dragging Alex with him.

Alex sighed as he felt Matt cuddle up to his shoulder. Tomorrow – later today - was going to be incredibly embarrassing.

-o-O-o-

Darkness found Alex sleeping on a single mattress – and really, he'd much rather get squished between two others if it meant he wasn't sleeping on this sorry excuse for a mattress. He honestly had no idea why they were always the first to go.

Unfortunately, Matt had refused to release him and it was only in the last ten minutes that Alex had been woken up by his bunk-mate's slow return to consciousness.

He could tell the moment the redhead woke from the way he stiffened.

"Care to let me go now?" asked Alex, dryly.

Hastily Matt released his wrist and pushed himself away.

Blushing like mad, he met Alex's amused gaze.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Doesn't matter," said Alex, waving him off and trying not to laugh. From the scowl on Matt's face, he didn't think he had been too successful.

By the time the others were woken, Alex and Matt were sitting opposite each other on the mattress, discussing the best way to gain access to the building's computer system.

"Anyway we try it, we need more equipment than we have!" exclaimed Matt, as Yassen approached.

"Come _on_, we have to be able to get the equipment somewhere! You're not telling me that the entire black market collapsed because of the war?"

"Of course not," said Matt with an irritable shake of his head. "But do _you_ know where we could get that stuff? 'Cause I sure don't!"

Not having ever really had reason to learn the ins and outs of the American criminal world, Alex turned to the Russian for guidance.

"Any ideas?" he asked.

Yassen frowned. "There were a few. For electronics, in this area there were a few small time dealers, and a few who did made-to-order items, though I think most of them will have gone out of business, at least for the duration of the war, or will have raised their prices so much that only billionaires could afford their wares. Although…" he trailed off, apparently thinking, "there is Madame Weatherill."

-o-O-o-

Madame Weatherill, according to Yassen, was what was often referred to as an eccentric. The Russian explained that she was quite possibly the best in her field and was the perfect choice because she would not have been recruited to fight in the war. There was also the fact that her fee would not necessarily be money, something that they had relatively little off.

Of course, this led to a variety of problems such as not knowing what her fee _would_ be, and how to persuade her to work for them at all, as she was notoriously picky about her clients. She operated in a grey area of the law: not a criminal herself, but unable to deny that most of her clients were, and would use her products for illegal activities. It gave her a large amount of power in the market, as most of the others had crossed firmly into illegal years ago.

In Alex's opinion, Madame Weatherill was short, strict and, judging from her outfit, had watched too many films of the stereotypical Rosa-Lee gypsy. She also had a slight obsession with cats.

He diplomatically didn't mention it and followed the woman through the small flat, trying not to stare at the electrical equipment that covered every surface – those that hadn't become the temporary bed of an evil eyed moggy, at any rate.

Matt was with him, as was Yassen, as this was his contact. The rest had stayed behind to make it easier for them to sneak through.

Personally, Alex would have preferred to leave Matt behind, if at all possible - the man had really no idea about how to sneak anywhere, and had almost gotten them caught more than once – but as he was the person who knew exactly what they needed, he really was necessary. And he was proving the point exceptionally well as he talked to Madame in what may as well have been a foreign language, for all Alex could understand. If he ever got out of this, he was getting Yassen to teach him about computers.

-o-O-o-

They arrived back a few hours later, having apparently gotten everything they needed. There was still the question of the price to be settled, but Yassen had assured them it would not be unreasonable, although given the fact that it was an international contract killer saying this, Matt was a little worried. He shrugged the unease aside as Alex opened the door, only for it to triple as the teen tensed.

"What's wrong?" asked the blond, finally stepping forward to let Matt and Yassen in behind him.

"Alex," said Tom, slowly, his face pale and eyes red. "It's Steve…"

-o-O-o-

_**Erm, please don't kill me? I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can, promise! Really, really sorry about the cliff hanger!**_

_**Btw, something has been troubling me for a while, so I decided to ask your opinions. How do I end this story? How would you like me to resolve the situation with MI6, because frankly him simply meekly going back to them is unrealistic, and I somehow doubt they would just let him walk out again. So, suggestions?**_

_**And what did you think of the chapter? Review and tell me, please?**_

_**Oddx**_


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N: So, writer's block has apparently finally released me. :) I'm sorry for the long wait. The first part of this chapter has been sitting on my computer since I last posted, but I've only just worked out how to move on from there. Hopefully, I won't ever leave it so long again!**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

Alex felt his heart stutter in his chest, and for one second everything seemed to stop. He had known Steve wasn't doing well. With moans coming from his room at all hours of the day and night, it was impossible not to. Snake and Graham had been grilling Emily relentlessly on the local area, specifically hospitals, in preparation of a raid for the materials the nurses needed.

"Is he…?" asked Alex hoarsely, unable to complete the question for fear of the answer.

"They don't think he will survive the night," said Tom, quietly.

Alex's eyes fell closed, guilt heavy in his chest and grief weighing on his soul. Bonds forged in battle were strong, even when they were fought against every step of the way.

A door opened.

"He wants to talk to you," said a female voice, quietly. "He hasn't got long."

A hand softly tugged at his elbow, and Alex finally opened his eyes. Tom was standing in front of him, his eyes reflecting the same grief Alex felt, his head inclined towards the door where one of the nurses was standing.

"Come on," he murmured, wrapping an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Graham is already through there."

Alex let himself be led towards Steve's room.

Graham was clasping Steve's hand as they entered, his face tense and solemn, clearly showing his helplessness in the face of Steve's breathing.

"Alex," whispered Steve, his voice strained, "Tom. You came."

"Of course," said Tom, hastening to the side of the bed. Alex delayed, guilt halting him in his tracks, momentarily. If he had been more firm with them, not let them come here, then Steve might not be dying now.

But now was not the time for that. Steve needed him.

Quickly, he crossed the room and sank to his knees beside Steve's head, on the opposite side of the bed to Tom and Graham.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured.

"Not your fault," rasped Steve. "Knew you'd blame yourself." He turned to Graham. "Don't let him," he instructed, before collapsing into the pillows.

"Been an honour to serve with you guys," he said. "I- I-"

Alex swallowed. He wished he could say something to make it better, but nothing would.

Perhaps, if he were religious, he could murmur platitudes about paradise and the afterlife and how they would see each other again. But he wasn't. None of them were. As far as they were concerned, this was the end.

"You were a good soldier," said Tom. "A good fighter. We wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

"And I wouldn't have made it this far without you four," said Steve. "'Specially you, Gray. Guess we can't go back to Durham after this, after all, huh?"

"Guess not," said Graham, with a watery grin.

"Wish I could see the end of this. But I know you'll beat the bastards. You'll show them, 'Lex."

"Promise," said Alex, gently squeezing his shoulder.

Steve nodded once, then went limp.

Tom stiffened, but Alex found a pulse, weak though it was.

The three of them sat in silence, until the dawn came and illuminated Steve's waxy pallor. He had died in the darkness.

-o-O-o-

Steve's death changed things irrevocably for the Brits. He was buried with no funeral and no coffin in the small patch of land to the rear of the house, behind a clump of shrubs. They couldn't mark the grave for fear of drawing attention. Not even the bare earth had been left alone to mark his passing, the fresh grave carefully concealed with leaf mulch and pine needles.

It had just been the nine of them, plus Emily, standing on the edge of the grave silently whispering their farewells, but it had influenced everyone. Even the men who had had little or no contact with the soldier were subdued.

Only Yassen seemed unaffected. Sometimes Alex hated him for that.

Apparently, Yassen didn't care, seeing as how he had been staring at Alex for the last ten minutes.

"What?" growled Alex, finally having had enough. "What do you want?"

"I was just wondering when you were going to snap out of it," mused Yassen thoughtfully.

"Snap out of what?" asked Alex, his voice flat, with a clear warning to tread very carefully held in each syllable.

"This ridiculous show of emotion," said Yassen, not intimidated in the slightest.

"A ridiculous show of emotion?" snarled Alex, going from irritated to enraged in a fraction of a second. "One of my closest friends just _died_! Not all of us are heartless bastards!"

"People die," snapped Yassen. "You were trained to be an assassin. You _know_ this. You cannot let grief debilitate you, as you have been."

"Fuck you," hissed Alex, rising to stalk out of the room.

"Fine," called Yassen. "Be like that. And when the rest of your friends die because you cared more for the dead than the living, I'll tell them it's all okay, because Steve was your _friend_, shall I?"

With a roar, Alex flung himself across the room at the Russian.

The fight was brutal, with Alex's blows guided by training and powered by rage, and Yassen holding nothing back. He could not, if he wished to force Alex to back down.

But anger could only get him so far, and within minutes, Yassen had Alex's back pressed firmly against his chest, arms pinioned to his si

"You're making mistakes," commented the assassin. "It should never have been this easy for me to defeat you."

"Let go of me," growled the teen.

"No," said Yassen, calmly.

"Let. Go."

"No," repeated Yassen.

Alex gave a helpless little snarl and shook himself, futilely trying to loosen Yassen's grip, before he slumped in defeat.

"It's been a week, you know," said Yassen softly.

"What?"

"Since Steve died. It's been a week."

Yassen could feel the ripple of tension travel up Alex's back. It would have been unnoticeable had Yassen been further away. It was one reason that this position was perfect for this talk. He could pick up on subtle signals as well as offer comfort. Slowly, he lowered both of them to the floor.

"No it hasn't," whispered Alex.

It also made him rather hard to ignore. In that last comment, Alex had looked as if he would rather not say anything at all.

"Yes," corrected Yassen, gently. "It has. They want to go _home_, Alex. They want to be able to mourn their friend in peace. And they can't do that until you get your act together and finish the job."

"I can't do this," whispered Alex.

"Yes. You can."

"I _can't_. Steve would never have been here if it weren't for me. He could still be _alive_. How can I…?"

He trailed off as language failed him. Yassen wasn't surprised. Alex hadn't said a word all week, except in response to a direct question. Even Matt was worried about him, although Yassen carefully hadn't mentioned that.

"Steve joined the army to serve his country," said Yassen, deliberately keeping his voice low and calm. "Even if he had never met you, he could still have ended up here. And even if he didn't, he could still have died in the war. He wasn't just here because of you, Alex."

"How do you know?" asked Alex, his voice choked with tears. "You barely knew him."

"So tell me about him," said Yassen, gently rubbing circles on Alex's shoulder.

Alex took a deep, shuddering breath and began to talk.

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: So what did you think? Review and tell me, please? I'll update as soon as I have the next chapter written!**_


	17. Chapter 17

_**A/N: So, I am getting slightly better at updating – it's only been a month and a half, this time. Proud of me? Or just pissed that it's still about three times as long as it should have been? Oh, by the way, there's a poll on my profile, if you could go and vote it'd really help me. I just want to know who's interested in a sequel to my story Dangerous. Anyway, I won't delay you any longer… read on!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

Dawn was already filtering through the grimy skylight when Yassen returned to the attic, Alex asleep in his arms. Most of the mattresses were occupied, but there was a single free and, next to it, Graham and Tom were waiting.

"How is he?" asked Graham, quietly.

"Exhausted," replied Yassen. "He's not good at coping with grief."

"I'm not surprised," said Tom, gently taking Alex from Yassen and laying him between the two soldiers. "He's lost so much already."

Yassen nodded sadly and moved towards the spare single. Behind him, Alex unconsciously curled into Graham, resting his head on his shoulder, and pulled Tom close behind him.

Yassen frowned. He knew that Alex would survive this, with support from those two, but if either of them died…

Yassen shook himself and lay down. Alex would survive that as well. Yassen would make sure of it.

-o-O-o-

The evening found Alex in the kitchen with Tom and Emily. He had a suspicion that Tom was trying to flirt with Emily, but if so, he was failing rather spectacularly seeing as all he had managed was to get her to shoot him weird looks every few seconds.

The timely entrance of Mathew interrupted the disturbingly domestic scene.

"Rider," greeted the man, with a courteous nod. For the last week, the two had been making a conscious effort to be at least civil with each other.

"Mathew," replied Alex. He couldn't call him Starbright. The reminder was too strong.

"Call me Matt," said Mathew – Matt – hesitantly holding out a hand.

"Call me Alex, then," said Alex, clasping his hand.

Matt nodded seriously, and sat down opposite him.

"I need to talk to you about bugging the building," he said, lowly.

"What's the problem," enquired Alex, quickly dropping into planning mode.

Matt opened his mouth, but was forestalled by Alex raising a hand. "And please cut all the computer jargon out, I don't have a hope in hell of understanding it."

He _really_ needed to talk to Yassen about learning about computers.

Matt held up a small blue box with wires sticking out or each end. "We need to attach this to one of the network wires."

"_Physically_ attach?" asked Alex with a groan. "I thought the point of hacking was to avoid having to break in?"

Matt shrugged, unapologetically. "Can't change the fact, sorry."

Alex sighed. "Right. Fine. Do you know if Yassen has retrieved the blueprints, yet?"

Matt nodded. "He got them last week."

Alex winced. He should have known that. He hated having to play catch up due to his own inattention.

"Ok, I'll have a look at them and get back to you."

-o-O-o-

Somehow, without realising it, mused Graham, Alex had managed to become an unofficial leader. True, the SAS soldiers would look to Wolf before him, and Yassen never followed anyone's orders unless he wanted to, but if Alex made a suggestion, or asked someone to do something, it tended to happen.

Graham didn't think Alex had realised yet, which was somewhat unbelievable given the fact that one of the resistance soldiers had actually called Alex sir, earlier, but it was true nonetheless.

Currently, Alex was pouring over the blueprints that Yassen had broken in and copied. Apparently, he hadn't simply stolen them because this way, it would be almost impossible for the employees there to realise that anyone had managed to get their hands on them. Personally, Graham had thought that they might be being slightly paranoid and overcautious, but Alex had nodded approvingly, so he had thought it best to keep his mouth shut on the subject.

He guessed that it never hurt to be too careful.

It was the usual crowd in the room. Graham and Tom were there, obviously, although admittedly this was mainly because they wanted to keep an eye on Alex than because they had any real input to make. Yassen was reclining in an armchair in one corner, apparently relaxed although his eyes still relentlessly followed the movements of everyone else.

Matt and Emily were side by side at the table in the middle, with Alex opposite them and Wolf at his shoulder. Everyone seemed to be focused on Alex, waiting for his decision.

"This is where we need to get to, right?" asked Alex, placing a finger on the map and glancing at Matt, who nodded.

"Right," continued Alex. "We're in luck. The vent goes right through there. We can access it from the roof-" his finger moved over to the relevant area –" and it'll be easy enough to get in and out."

"And getting up to the roof?" asked Emily, frowning.

"The building was designed to be secretive," said Wolf, reaching forward to shuffle around in the pile of paper until he found a map of the street. "I mean, sure, they'll have cameras and stuff, but actually getting to the roof isn't physically challenging – you could easily go from the roof next door."

"I'll leave in an hour."

-o-O-o-

The building he broke into was an office block. The marks of typical office life crowded around him as he snuck passed, leaving the desks, and the photos, ornaments and knick-knacks that occupied them, undisturbed. Such signs of normality seemed out of place in the world he now inhabited. He slipped by, little more than a shadow, leaving only the silence to whisper of his passage.

The door to the roof was alarmed, but it was the work of a moment to disable it. If all went to plan, he would be returning this way, and could rearm it then.

It was cold outside, with a harsh wind whipping across the rooftops and raising goosebumps across his skin. He shivered slightly and crossed to the edge.

The building, while not cleared for two hundred yards in every direction like the building where Matt was held, was still not directly against the buildings on either side. It was a good two metre jump, with half-concealed cameras sweeping the rooftop constantly. Unfortunately, their opponents weren't idiots.

He stood for about ten minutes, counting. He had perhaps thirty seconds to clear the gap and reach the only safe spot on the roof, a one metre by one metre blind spot in an otherwise perfect defence.

He swallowed and backed up.

One deep breath and he began to run, his feet pounding the concrete as his arms pumped the air.

There was a moment of silence as he soared, a moment when it seemed he could do anything, hang suspended for forever, ignore all his responsibilities so far below, but then the ground was rushing up towards him and there was a bang as he rolled out of the landing.

He sprinted and collapsed in the safe zone, massaging his shoulder where he had landed on it, painfully hard.

A few feet away, just out of his safe zone, sat the ventilation shafts – eight of them, clustered together, each with a fan at the top to suck air in, or push it out he supposed, and a trap door directly below the fan, for maintenance purposes.

Thankfully, he had up to a minute to complete this part, as long as he timed it right. As the camera swept over the shafts again, he stuffed a piece of bubblegum in his mouth. The camera swept back and then away towards the edge and he moved.

It was the work of a moment to stuff the sticky gum into the lock, but the next twenty seconds, while Alex waited with baited breath for the tell-tale crack of the breaking lock, were quite possibly the longest of his life. _Finally, _the metal gave way and Alex hastened inside the metal tube, pulling the grate closed behind him.

Thankfully, it stayed shut despite the broken lock, and the camera swept by with no-one any the wiser.

Alex let out a sigh and took stock of his surroundings. He was half-crouched in a tube that would just allow for a fully grown man to move through it, if rather uncomfortably. Alex was suddenly rather glad that he had not filled out to the broad shouldered build that both Ian and John, in what photos Alex had had, had possessed. Instead, he seemed to have inherited his mother's lithe frame, although admittedly this could be proven wrong as grew older.

Above his head, a fan whirred, each blade slicing through the air with a steady, repetitive _vwhump, vwhump _that calmed Alex's stuttering nerves, as unexpected as that may be around a potentially deadly piece of equipment.

Well, no, he doubted it would kill him. But still. It would hurt, a lot.

Beneath his feet, the shaft curved away, and Alex sighed. He'd better get moving, then.

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: So what did you think? If I keep getting lots of reviews, I'm sure I'll bet more inspired to write! Having said that, I'll try my best to have the next update up within two weeks, no matter the number of reviews. But yeah, reviews are love. So you want to review, don't you? Or do you not love me anymore? :(**_


	18. Chapter 18

_**A/N: See? I am getting better at updating this fic! It's only been three weeks since I updated, instead of a month and a half! Yay! Ok… so I admit three weeks isn't brilliant, but it's better! And anyway, since you've all been very patient, I won't keep you waiting any longer! (You guys really must love it when I update after 11 PM. My A/Ns dwindle down to practically nothing! Lol.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

Turning around in the narrow metal tunnel proved tricky, and Alex cursed himself for not thinking to enter headfirst from the beginning. As it was, he was forced to awkwardly propel himself along feet first until he came across a junction.

He made better time when he was finally facing forwards, and it wasn't long before he'd slid down the shaft into the heart of the building, and every few feet was another vent allowing him a brief glimpse into another office.

They weren't completely abandoned, a skeleton-staff flitting from computer to computer, monitoring whatever it was that needed to be monitored. A night crew, Alex would guess, given from the lack of yawns.

Twenty metres further on he had left the large, open-plan office behind and was passing individual offices. In fifty metres or so the shaft would twist down through the wall cavity and he'd level off again directly above the server room.

There was a light ahead, seeping through the grill and spiking Alex's curiosity. He had been sure that all the people higher up would be at home, but apparently not. Unless someone had just left a light on, or something.

Cautiously, he crawled forward, being as quiet as possible.

When he was opposite the grill, he pushed himself back as much as he could so that he wouldn't be seen and looked through.

"For the last time, I haven't worked out how he did it!" spat a man, talking into a phone and striding around the office angrily.

A sleepy snuffle came from the corner and Alex's attention was drawn to a small child asleep on a couch in the corner.

"Look. Look. I can't talk about it now. I'll work on it tomorrow," continued the man, his pacing having been halted by the kid and his voice much softer. He was obviously trying not to wake the kid up.

"Daddy?" murmured the boy, sleepily, and immediately the man was by his side.

"I'm right here, son," he murmured. "Go back to sleep. We'll head home soon, I promise. I've just got a few things to finish up, okay?"

"Okay, daddy," yawned the boy, settling swiftly back down under the fleecy blanket that had been tucked caringly around him.

The man moved towards the desk, and Alex's eyebrows shot up as he got a clear look at the man's face. It was Faulkner. The vice-president.

The man Alex was supposed to kidnap.

-o-O-o-

It took all of thirty seconds for Alex to dismiss a snatch-and-grab. It would mean that he had to manoeuvre a deadweight of approximately 180lbs through a ventilation shaft, and then somehow get that same deadweight – bulky deadweight – down from the roof of a building without getting caught by the cameras. It would also put everyone on full alert that something had gone wrong which, admittedly, might be unavoidable but also might not be with the proper planning. He didn't want to fuck up simply because he'd been impatient.

Wondering if he'd made the right decision, he moved on.

From then on, it took him fifteen minutes to get to the server room and place the wire, Matt's instructions ringing in his ears repetitively and another ten minutes after that he was back outside Faulkner's office, worrying his lip with his teeth.

"I'm just going to go and grab some coffee," whispered the man to his sleeping son. "I'll be back in ten minutes."

Alex's mouth dropped. Sure, he was lucky sometimes, but there was no way he could be _this_ lucky, surely?

The man paused at the door and Alex felt his heart sink, but he only said "Please don't wake up," before closing the door behind him. Alex grinned and rifled through his pockets.

Thirty seconds and a credit card had the screws out and the grill off. Alex dropped lightly onto the carpet and crossed to the desk. The computer was password protected and, with only nine minutes left, he ignored it and settled for sifting through the files and documents on top of the desk. He used his phone to take a picture of the map on the wall and shoved a couple of files up his shirt to take with him, the contents seeming important, but the dusty outside jacket making him believe that they'd be easily missed.

He was about to leave when a soft snort made him turn to the sofa.

180lb deadweight would be impossible, he knew. But what about a 50lb seven year old?

He couldn't. Wouldn't. It was just a _child_.

A child whose life would be damaged as much as everyone else's if the president was allowed to set off nuclear warheads.

"Shit," he cursed, almost hysterically, as he came to a decision.

Quickly, so that he wouldn't second-guess himself, he crossed to the boy and gently shook him awake.

"Shh," he soothed as the boy woke up. "It's ok. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

"Who are you?" asked the boy, looking at Alex with wide eyes.

"A friend," said Alex, his hand coming to rest on the boys shoulder.

Three seconds later, the boy was unconscious, never having realised he was in danger.

Business-like, Alex used the blanket to bind the boy in a sling against his chest and crossed to the desk. He picked up a few more files that he'd left alone before simply because they would have definitely been reported missing and tucked them securely behind the child, then grabbed a pen and paper from the desk.

_Mr Faulkner_, he wrote. _You do not know me, but I am sure that you can guess my cause. I have taken your son. You have my word that he will not be harmed, but if you ever want to see him again you will do as I say. You will not report any files missing, or tell anyone about your son being taken. More instructions will follow in due course._

Quickly, he wiped down the pen to remove fingerprints and wiped the desk for good measure. He didn't bother with the letter because he'd been careful not to touch it.

With his precious burden cradled against his chest, it was a short jump to hook a hand onto the grate. It took a bit more effort to manoeuvre himself and the child into the vent but he managed, and had already screwed the grill back in place when the door opened and Faulkner re-entered.

He frowned when he saw the empty sofa and called out, obviously worried, "Aaron?"

"Aaron, where are you?"

Alex glanced down at Aaron, lying perfectly still against him and bit his lip.

He could tell when Faulkner spotted the note from the way he tensed and with three quick strides he had grabbed it and quickly read it.

"Oh, God, no," cried the man, dropping into the chair. "No, please, not Aaron."

Alex closed his eyes and began to move along the vent, the man's sobs fading into the distance as he went.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So, what did you think? Review and tell me? :D Please? Pretty please? If you're all very nice and review I'll try and have the next chapter up a week from today! Yes, just a WEEK! (ten days… tops, I promise!)**_


	19. Chapter 19

_**A/N: So, it turns out the shifts that end at 12.30 AM leave you feeling sleepy and headachey and in desperate need of a shower. On the other hand, lazy Sunday mornings that involve getting up at 10 and then eating CocoPops while watching Finding Nemo are really rather epic, so I guess it all evens out. I was going to update this last night, when I got home, but seeing as I couldn't type, or think, in a straight line, I figured it'd probably be better if I waited until after I had slept.**_

_**And yes, this is an update after just a week. And you'll get an update next Sunday as well. And no, you can't go skiing in Hell, just yet. Let the snow settle, first.**_

_**Anyways, onto the chapter!**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

The house was dark when he got back. It wasn't unusual at this time of night. They had to keep suspicions down and lights blazing in a house all night would hardly be the best way to do that. It was still an hour or so until dawn, though, so Alex was fairly certain someone would be up.

He was right. His quick knock on the door was met with footsteps and a pause as the answerer checked him through the peephole before the door was pulled open.

Tom stood in the doorway, a grin plastered to his face. A grin that quickly faded when he saw Alex's guest.

"Who's that?" he said, confused.

"I'll explain inside," said Alex, carefully lifting Aaron out of the blanket and pushing passed Tom into the kitchen.

"Who the hell is that?" asked Matt, when Alex entered, unconsciously echoing Tom. "We're not a bloody day-care centre, you know!"

"Let's go find the others, so I only have to explain this once," said Alex wearily. "They in the other room?"

"Yeah," muttered Matt, heading into the living room, Tom close on his heels. Alex followed with Aaron and his guilt weighing him down.

The resistance soldiers took one look at the serious expression on Matt's face and began to file out. The policy of need-to-know only was firmly ingrained within the ranks. Alex was surprised to see Sabina slipping out among them. He guessed she must have made some friends among the soldiers. It made sense. She'd been here for a while now and she always had been a friendly person.

He cast an eye around.

"Where's Emily?" he asked, as he took in the usual suspects scattered around the room with various expressions of confusion and accusation on their faces.

"In bed," said Matt. "She's not on the nocturnal rotation anymore. You think she should be here?"

Alex nodded and Matt signalled Davies to go and get her.

They waited impatiently for her to arrive so that Alex could explain things, but no sooner had she walked through the door in pyjama bottoms and a tank top, still rubbing sleep from her eyes when yet another distraction delayed them.

Aaron began waking up.

"wh're we?" he murmured, nuzzling against Alex's jacket.

"Your safe," said Alex. "I promise."

But Aaron was becoming more alert by the second.

"Where's Daddy? What am I doing here?"

"Shh, shh," soothed Alex, tugging the kid up to face him. "I promised I'd keep you safe, yeah? Your dad's just got a bit of work to take care of, and he wants you safe. I said I'd look after you."

"You know my dad?" asked the kid, relaxing slightly.

"That's right," said Alex, telling the first outright lie. "Now, go with my friend Tom and he'll find you somewhere to sleep, yeah?"

"I'll fill you in later," promised Alex in a whisper as Tom came over and lifted Aaron into his arms.

"You better," scowled Tom.

The door had barely closed behind them when the others turned back to him.

"Start talking," growled Wolf.

"That," began Alex, "Was Aaron. Aaron Faulkner."

"_Faulkner_?" said Snake, disbelievingly. "You _kidnapped his son?_"

"Yeah," said Alex, his head ducking another couple of inches.

Reactions were mixed. Davies nodded thoughtfully once, while Matt and the SAS looked angry, but could obviously see the sense in it.

It was Emily and Graham's reaction that stuck in his mind. Graham gave him a disgusted look and walked out, while Emily paused only to slap him before following.

"Look," said Alex. "I'm not proud of what I did, but this way, there is barely any risk to our people and we are far more likely of getting the information we need."

He paused, thinking. "Speaking of information, I picked up these."

Leaning forward, he gathered together the files he had stolen and dropped them onto the table in the middle of the room.

Automatically, Fox leaned forward, but he stilled at a movement from Wolf.

"We need to sort out some stuff first," said the soldier. "First of all, we need to get rid of secrets that the kid could relay when we return him."

"Is there anywhere we can move the soldiers to?" asked Snake.

"We've got several other safe-houses," admitted Matt. "We normally move on rotation to reduce the risk but…"

"But you haven't been recently because you don't quite trust us, yet," said Alex, perfectly calmly.

Matt nodded, but at least had the grace to blush.

"Well, we move the soldiers out, then," said Alex. "How many of the women are here, as well?"

"About twenty," said Matt. "Same as the soldiers. We've hardly got all our forces here, after all."

Alex nodded. He had noticed that the force on the assignment to extract Matt had been bigger than what he had seen here, but had thought it politic not to mention it.

"Ok, well I'm going to suggest we move them as well."

"It'll have to be tonight," said Davies. "We don't want the kid seeing any more than he already has. If he returns to his father, he could tell everything."

"When," said Yassen, firmly.

Davies shot him a look. "I thought you were an assassin?" he sneered. "We have to be realistic here. If we return the kid, there is nothing to stop his father from telling everything. If they know what information we've got, then it becomes worthless. And that's assuming that his father even does as we tell him. We may have no choice."

"I don't kill children," said Yassen, icily.

"Look, we'll deal with that when we get to it," said Matt, rubbing his forehead. "Chad, I'm sending you to Safe-house Orchid to take charge of those getting displaced from here. It should be empty at the moment."

Davies nodded. "Shall I go and tell them to get ready, sir?"

Matt nodded and Davies quickly left.

"We should also move our planning out of the general living area," commented Alex, glancing around at the boards scattered on the wall.

"Once the others have gone, we'll have six free bedrooms, upstairs. We can turn one of them into a strategy centre."

"Strategy Centre?" asked Eagle with a grin. "I like it."

"What's in the files?" asked Fox, finally giving into temptation and crossing to the pile.

"Stuff that looked important," admitted Alex. "I didn't really have time to do more than flick through. Oh, and there was a map on the wall that I got a photo of."

He chucked his phone to Matt, who quickly opened the file. "I've got a laptop I can load this on and get a better look at it," he said.

"Great," said Alex, standing up. "I think I should go and find Graham and Tom."

"I'll come with you," said Yassen. "We need to talk."

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: So, what did you think? I had a bit of difficulty with their reactions to Aaron, I must admit, and I think they might have let Alex off too easily for what he did, but most of them can probably see the sense behind it. That said, I really, REALLY don't like Chad Davies. Grr.**_

_**Anyway, please review and let me know what you thought? Remember, reviews are love!**_


	20. Chapter 20

_**A/N: Life is good. It's ten o'clock and I'm still in my dressing gown; I have a furry little lawn mower called Kitty curled up next to me; I have a fantastic bacon butty to eat for breakfast; my skin has darkened to a toffee-ish colour after a few days in the sun and I finally have time to update. (I am currently ignoring that I have some stupid online thingy to do for work, that I need to complete within the hour and the 800 word article I have to write with the same deadline.)**_

_**Anyways, I'm sorry the update is late, it's been a hectic fortnight!**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

_**-o-O-o-**_

Alex nearly tripped over Sabina as he walked out, distracted as he was by Yassen's accusing stare. Sabina went sprawling backwards landing on the floor woth an oomph and a sheepish grin.

"Sabina," said Alex, frowning as he helped her up. "What are you doing here?"

"I was curious about the kid," she admitted. "I guess I picked up a few of your bad habits, huh?"

Alex smiled weakly.

"I'm sorry, Alex," she said, softly. "I know this must be killing you."

"You'll be staying here," said Yassen. "You should not have heard what you did and I want to keep an eye on you."

"Who do you think I'm going to tell?" asked Sabina, indignantly. "The Americans? Do you know how I realised this war was starting? My parents _disappeared._ My dad had been writing a piece on the new government. They went to bed one night and then weren't there the next morning! Do you really think I'm going to help the people who probably _killed_ my parents?"

"No, no Sabina, that's not it at all," said Alex, placatingly.

"We don't want you letting it slip to _anyone_. Whether they're part of the resistance or administration," said Yassen coldly. "Stay here, for now. I'll be back soon."

-o-O-o-

Talking to Graham and Tom was difficult, Alex stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself, but it was Yassen's cold unforgiving stare that made him want to run away and hide from it all.

The assassin had only said six words. "He's the same age as David." Alex hadn't known he could hurt anymore over his decision until the Russian had said that.

It was Aaron who saved him in the end. The four of them had been having the heated discussion in one of the upstairs rooms, abandoned now that the occupants were preparing to move out, but they were interrupted by the seven-year old standing sleepily in the doorway.

"I heard voices," he explained.

"You're not very good at sleeping through the night, are you?" asked Alex with a smile.

Aaron shook his head. "It's why daddy takes me to work with him. I like it when he tucks me back in."

"Well then," said Alex, crossing to the boy's side. "Let's go get you settled back down, shall we?"

He took the kid's hand and led him out of the room, missing the significant looks exchanged behind him.

When he returned, having tucked Aaron in, it was to three thoughtful stares.

"What?" he asked, uncomfortably.

"There's no way you're going to hurt that kid," said Graham. "Not a chance in hell."

"What? Of course I won't!" said Alex, indignantly. "What kind of monster do you think I am?"

"As long as Aaron thinks it's ok," said Tom, "Then it's ok with us."

Yassen nodded once. Alex knew the assassin well enough to realise that that was all he would get out of him in front of the others, so smiled back.

-o-O-o-

It was amazing how much emptier the house seemed once the men and women had left. Admittedly, it was a lot emptier, but somehow it seemed to drown them all in it. Whereas before there was always a steady murmur of conversation and activity, now there was just silence. A six-bedroomed house should not have felt cavernous when housing thirteen people, one of them a child, constantly running around, but somehow it did.

One of the bedrooms was converted to the Strategy Centre, which had yet to be renamed despite almost everyone's aversion to it. This was mainly due to Eagle's obsession with the title, and his threat to shave eyebrows/beards/scalps when people were unconscious if they didn't agree. Matt had not been pleased when he woke up to find that the beard he had been cultivating since his rescue had been shaved into stripes. Needless to say, no one else had objected strenuously after that.

Sabina, Emily and Aaron shared the second largest bedroom, the largest having been converted, which left four bedrooms between the ten men. Alex was sharing with Yassen, as no one else felt even remotely comfortable around the assassin. Fox had ended up sharing with Tom and Graham, while Wolf and Snake took charge of Eagle, which left the slightly odd pairing off Panther and Matt. Considering the lack of familiarity between the two, they had been allowed to bag the room with twin beds, which in hindsight might have been a mistake as Eagle quite regularly got kicked out of his room by Wolf and was forced to camp out in the far less comfortable attic.

While Sabina looked after Aaron, the others busied themselves looking through the files that Alex has acquired and finding relevant information to add to the various boards. So far they had one for each prominent member of the administration and each base of organisation, as well as three others, one each for plans to access and disable America's nuclear weapons, the enemy's knowledge of the resistance and the location of Joe Byrne, who had apparently gone missing as soon as he had lost his job. Given the searches authorised in an attempt to find him, they were ruling out assassination by his previous employers, but so far they had had no more luck tracing him down that the government had.

The board of plans was depressingly empty, but it wasn't that which disturbed him most. No, that honour belonged to the practically overflowing board of the enemy's intel on them.

Pushing the worries out of his mind for the moment, Alex headed downstairs to where the others were gathering for dinner. Sabina had cooked, as she usually did claiming it helped her keep busy, and they all scooped up food from the table before heading through to the living room; as much as they might wish otherwise, the kitchen table was just too small to seat all of them.

For a moment, with Sabina swooping down to set a tray of lasagne on the table and with Aaron clutching at the leg of her jeans, Alex was taken back to when David was younger and used to follow Amethyst around everywhere. If Sabina hadn't moved to America, and if he hadn't been forced to leave the country, could the two of them have worked as well as Yassen and Amethyst? Sabina was pretty, sure, and yeah he enjoyed spending time with her, but he'd never felt anything more for her than he did for say… Tom. In fact, he'd say he was closer to Tom, but either way he was pretty sure that his feelings for Sabina were completely platonic, albeit with a strong overtone of protectiveness, but that was only to be expected after he had gotten her into so much trouble.

Actually, that was a good thing, he thought as he watched Sabina settle on a two-seater couch next to Matt. The two of them had seemed very friendly over the last couple of days, and he wouldn't have wanted to risk his newly developed relationship with Matt because of petty jealousy. He wished them every happiness, though what happiness could be secured when hiding from the government and organising an illegal resistance to a despotic dictator, he wasn't quite sure.

Aaron, as usual, carefully carried his plate over to Alex's chair before ruining the conscientious manner by scrambling over the blond to sit happily on the arm of the chair. Thankfully, tonight was one of the nights when Alex didn't have to hastily grab the plate in order to avoid a lapful of hot pasta.

Conversation was quiet, but happy, as everyone allowed themselves to relax for the evening and after an hour or so, Aaron even managed to persuade Fox to continue his retelling of The Hobbit. Apparently he had read it as a child, and remembered enough of the details to actually be a rather good storyteller, good enough at least to keep more than just Aaron captivated.

When the clock struck nine, Alex carefully shifted Aaron into his arms and carried the barely-awake child to bed. By the time he had tucked him in everyone, bar Sabina, had convened back in the Strategy Centre to go over the information one more time before turning in.

Emily moved to pick up a file, but Alex stopped her with a gesture.

"Don't worry about that right now," said Alex.

"Why's that?" she asked, turning to look where Alex was staring, towards the Enemy Intel board.

"Because we've got bigger problems," said Alex. "We've got a spy in our midst."

_**-o-O-o-**_

_**A/N: So, review and tell me what you thought? Who do you think the spy is? I'll give you a hint: It's not Alex! :P**_


	21. Chapter 21

_**A/N: As I write this, I am on a train hurtling south, bound for Kings Cross. I have coffee, I have my laptop and I have the latest edition of New Scientist. In fact, over all, the journey has been very civilised so far, despite having to drive from Hull to Doncaster in order to get the train in the first place. In fact, the most stressful part of the day has been trying to programme my sat-nav. (A Christmas present shortly after I passed my driving test. My mother is apparently under the impression that I couldn't direct myself out of a paper bag. Rather unfortunately, I suspect she's right…) I did make the mistake of stopping at KFC for lunch, and am now paying the price. Not only does my stomach hurt from the sheer quantity of fat and salt and additives I shoved into it, but I spent £3.39 on a meal that I only managed to eat half of, despite catching up on both lunch and breakfast.**_

_**But I finally have time to finish that chapter I promised you. Of course, I won't be able to upload it until I get access to the internet again, but that's really not a problem for you as you're reading this after the fact. It has blatantly already been uploaded, and So, here you are. :)**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

Emily slumped, the file dropping listlessly from her hand. "I'd been trying not to think that," she said quietly.

"There's no point ignoring it," said Matt, harshly. "It's hardly going to fix itself if we ignore it."

"I know, Uncle," said Emily, bowing her head slightly.

"How do we know who it is?" asked Tom with a frown.

"We need to work out when the information started," said Alex. "It seems to get more and more sporadic the further back we go, but it's hard to tell with it sorted by topic rather than date."

"Well, we'll get it into order, then take a look," said Wolf, quickly clearing the table by the tried and tested method of dumping everything in the corner.

Ten minutes of flurried activity later, they stopped to look at the once again clear table. The documents had been pegged to string that now zigzagged the room. In fact, Alex could barely see the other occupants through the cloud of paper.

"They've got quite good info of our formation," commented Emily, frowning as she looked at the cluster of papers that marked the start of the resistance.

"Not surprising," said Alex, waving away her concerns. "You were trying to gain members. You were approaching people and you weren't organised enough to hide your activities properly. You'll notice their level of information drops off almost immediately after you finish actively recruiting."

"Here," said Yassen, reaching out to touch a point on the string.

"Are you sure?" asked Matt, frowning. "That patch is fairly sparse."

"I'm sure," said the assassin calmly.

Alex frowned and moved over.

"Why-? Oh."

"Oh?" asked Emily, frowning at him. "What's the matter?"

"This is the first document since your beginning that has information that was recent at the time the document was dated," said Alex.

"I… don't get you," said Tom, frowning. "Try actually making sense."

"Here," said Alex, moving back down the line. "Look. This document shows detailed information on your plan to blow up the train tracks that they were using to supply the front. It's not dated, but don't you think that if they had had that information _before_ the attack, they would have stopped you?"

Emily frowned and nodded slowly.

"And here," said Alex. "This document is actually dated _after_ the one Yassen pointed out, but it was put here because this is when the information was relevant."

"So what we need to know, is what happened around that time?" asked Ben, slowly moving from where he had been leaning against the wall.

"It was well before we got here," commented Wolf, peering over the spy's shoulder. "Three weeks to a month before, I reckon. So what significant events occurred around then?"

"We could be looking at someone getting promoted," said Alex. "Or a new member. Anything really."

"I know what it was," said Matt, his face growing cold. "It was when I was captured."

For a moment, there was silence, before Alex let out an explosive breath and began quietly cursing. Another moment saw him sitting down against the wall and burying his head in his knees.

"What's up?" asked Graham, frowning.

Alex simply shook his head, leaving it up to others to answer.

It was Wolf who finally took the initiative.

"When Matt got kidnapped, Emily temporarily took over the resistance. There are changes whenever someone new comes to power, especially something as fluid in organisation as this. The amount of changes in standard work and access is going to be phenomenal, even if it was unconsciously done on Emily's part."

"Emily, Matt," Alex began, finally looking back up, "We need you two to trade information – discuss who was doing what under your commands and who changed ranks or jobs. Then we need you to cross reference it with the information they have to determine who had access to it and who could have gained access even if they weren't supposed to."

"Right," agreed Matt, with a short nod. "Come on, Em. We'll work on it in the attic; then we can get rid of this bloody string."

Alex sighed as the two began to untie the string and its contents.

"I need coffee," he muttered, sourly.

"Ran out yesterday," said Tom. "Wolf finished it off."

"Bugger."

-o-O-o-

They spent the rest of the day sorting through documents in the Strategy Centre, every so often sending a stack up to Emily and Matt to add to their timeline, but when evening rolled around and dinner consisted of pasta and tinned tomatoes, Alex realised that supplies were going to become an issue incredibly quickly unless they did something about it soon.

"How do you normally restock?" he asked Emily, idly moving the pasta around his plate. He admitted that Sabina had done a fairly decent job, given the supplies she had, but he had been rapidly becoming sick of pasta anyway, and this was just taking it a step too far in his opinion. He speared a piece and shoved it in his mouth, trying to ignore the slightly rubbery texture that pasta always had.

"Well, the women can call into the shops and use their rations for some things," said Emily. "And they were growing some things in the garden, as well. But most of the time, we sent out a group of men at night to go and steal supplies from a military depot."

"That would explain the over-abundance of oats," muttered Snake.

"You know where they are?" asked Alex, ignoring Snake.

"Of course," said Emily. "I'll show you on the maps after dinner."

"Good," said Alex. "Now, here's what we're going to do…"

-o-O-o-

It took four days to scout out the depot to Yassen's satisfaction. They pinpointed where the food was kept, along with several other useful areas such as ammo and weapons and, at Snake's insistence, medical supplies. They also noted the loading bays. Convoys arrived once a week, according to Emily. Thankfully among the little written information they kept, was a detailed timetable for when each nearby depot sent out supplies to the front. They didn't want to raid it on a night when workers would be crawling all over it to prepare the next transfer.

In fact, if Alex's plan worked, they wouldn't need to be anywhere near it.

-o-O-o-

George was fairly new to his job. He'd been removed from the front lines when he'd received a bullet wound to the knee. Now, putting any weight on it caused him a tremendous amount of pain and so he'd been declared unfit for active duty.

He wasn't complaining. Sure, he'd done his bit for his country, but he'd never been one of the gung-ho, joke-cracking soldiers who seemed to spend their time drinking alcohol they weren't supposed to have and taking pot-shots at anything that moved on the battlefield. Most of them died on their first attack, but he'd never really mourned the loss. They reminded him far too much of the jocks who had bullied him mercilessly in high school.

High school never ends.

He had, however, been transferred rather than removed from duty completely. And really, he guessed he was rather lucky to be given the job of a truck driver rather than stuck behind some desk somewhere or in a warehouse or factory. At least this way, he got to move around. Low risk, high mobility and relatively easy: yeah, he was fairly certain he had hit the jackpot.

He'd just stopped by the depot to load up, but the boys at the warehouse had simply waved him back into the truck when they saw his crutch and done the job on their own. He'd happily cranked up the stereo and let them get on with it.

Suddenly, there was a bump on the side of the lorry and he felt panic flash through him.

He hadn't run someone over had he? But he couldn't see anyone. Oh god. What if it was a kid? And he couldn't see them because they were too short?

He hastily pulled the truck to a halt and opened the door.

There was a woman lying on the ground a few metres back.

He paled and hurried to her side, ignoring the pain in his knee.

She looked pretty, though her face was mostly concealed by mud. All he could tell was that she had red hair, and a cut on her forehead.

"Miss!" he called. "Miss, are you ok?"

"She's fine," said a voice from behind him.

Quickly, he whirled around, falling backwards as he came face-to-face with a young man standing just a foot away.

"In fact," said the young blond with a slightly manic grin, "She's in a far better position than you. Thank you for helping the resistance."

He was about to protest his innocence when the young man struck. The last thing he saw before blackness consumed him was the pretty woman standing up and grinning at the blond.

He hoped he wasn't going to get fired for this.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: And just because the universe enjoys tying up lose ends as much as the rest of us, I am finishing this while hurtling north. **_

_**Well, I say that. I'm actually sitting on a train that was supposed to leave at half eleven. Within the next ten minutes I shall be hurtling north. I hope. So, did you all like George? :D I just thought I'd throw him in there. :) I like George, and do, I admit, feel a little sorry for him. He didn't deserve to come up against Alex.**_

_**So, any more theories on who the spy is? :D I'm not going to tell anyone if they're right, because, yeah, I don't give away my plot. But have fun guessing!**_

_**As always, reviews are love. :)**_

_**EDIT: of course, this is actually being posted at 3 o'clock the next day because I didn't get back to **_**four in the bloody morning!**_** Essentially, not only was the train delayed by an hour, but the motorway was closed. I was decidedly unimpressed.**_

_**But you all want to review and cheer me up, right?**_


	22. Chapter 22

_**A/N: Sorry about the long wait in updates, I'm only just getting a handle on my uni work. As strange as it may seem, I am now actually becoming organised. You kind of have to when it's become organised or fail.**_

_**Oh, by the way! I don't think I've mentioned this in here, although you'll know about it if you read Reincarnation. There are Alex Rider Fanfiction Awards this year. The forum is called the Royal & General Bank. Search for it on ffnet and you'll find it easy enough. Anyways, back to the point. You all get to nominate stories to be considered to win a prize. There are several categories, all of which have their own nomination threads on the forum. One nomination per category per person, and if something has already been nominated, feel free to nominate it again as number of nominations will come into play on the readers choice award.**_

_**Nominations close (I think) on the 1**__**st**__** of November, so get over there soon? Pretty please?**_

_**Anyway, now onto the chapter!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

"Was all that grandstanding really necessary?" murmured Emily as she slipped into the passenger seat of the truck.

"Probably not," admitted Alex with an easy shrug. "But come on. They would have guessed it was the resistance anyway."

"Yeah, but now they know what you look like."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "What's he going to say? Young, blond, brown eyed and taller than me when I'm crouched on the ground? It's not a lot to go on. And seeing as they don't even know I'm in the country, I doubt I'm on their radar."

Emily glared at him and looked out of the window.

"How long until we get to the meeting point?" she asked.

"About ten minutes. Hopefully no more than fifteen to get the supplies out of the truck. I'll take the truck somewhere and dump it afterwards. I very much doubt they'll notice it's missing until it doesn't show up."

"And what about the soldier? What if he wakes up?"

"At least an hour until then," said Alex. "Probably more. And from then, he has to find his way to a command base to report it. We did disable his radio, remember? And, nice job at playing dead."

Emily huffed and settled down to ignore him. She had _not_ been pleased when she realised she's have to be covered in dirt.

Her theory was: his plan, his fault. And she was not about to let him forget it.

-o-O-o-

They met the others in an alley close to the house. As Alex had predicted, it took fifteen minutes to unload the truck, and he sent Emily to dump it well away from their base of operations as the rest of them concentrated on lugging the supplies back to the house.

That part took a little longer than normal, given that they couldn't be seen by anyone, but eventually, they were all back at the house, with the cupboards re-stocked.

The first thing Alex did was make coffee and he sank happily into an armchair to savour the strong, bitter drink.

Tom gave the black liquid a disgusted glance and proceeded to load his up with so much milk and sugar that Alex was fairly certain is could no longer be classed as coffee.

He wrinkled his nose at Tom, then turned back to his drink with a blissful sigh.

"Well, I drove the truck into the river," said Emily, "like you said. I fail to see why I couldn't just dump it in an alley or something."

"Same reason you had to be covered in dirt," said Alex. "Anonymity. The water will wash any prints off and so we stay unknown. Well, apart from Matt. But we'll just have to manage. By the way, how are you two doing on locating the spy?"

Emily scowled and Matt frowned at her.

"We've narrowed it down," said the man. "We can rule out most of the soldiers, because they wouldn't have had access to the data; they may have been able to eavesdrop on some of it, admittedly, but we move them around so much that there would have to be at least five spies."

"Occam's Razor," said Snake with a nod. "It's far more likely that there's only one. So, what are the options?"

"Well, there is one man," said Matt, frowning slightly.

"We've been over this!" exclaimed Emily, angrily. "He _wouldn't_."

"Who wouldn't?" asked Alex sitting forward to stare at her intently.

"Chad Davies," said Matt. "And I know you want to think that, Em, but he only joined up because of you; he has _no_ loyalty to the cause."

"And if he joined up because of me, why would he do something that would get me sentenced to death?" exclaimed Emily. "Chad _loves_ me. He wouldn't work against me, against us! I swear he wouldn't."

"He's the only one who would have had access to all that information and you know it!" exclaimed Matt, impatiently.

"Keep your voices down," snapped Alex. "Sabina and Aaron are right next door."

"Oh, and now Sabina is a spy?" snapped Matt.

"See? _You_ don't like it when your lover is accused," spat Emily.

Alex blinked and vowed to pay more attention. He'd had a vague idea that Matt liked Sabina, but he had had no idea that things had progressed so far, _or_ that Emily had been dating Chad.

"That isn't the point!" snapped Matt. "Sabina hasn't had access to the information, has she? She's only been here a few weeks."

"That doesn't mean we have to parade secrets in front of her," began Alex, calmly.

"Oh shut the fuck up, Rider!" snarled Matt. "You don't trust anyone, do you? I thought she was your friend?"

"I am NOT saying she's a spy," snapped Alex. "I'm simply reminding you that the less she knows, _the safer she is_."

Matt deflated. "Oh, right. Sorry."

"Call Chad back here; tell him you miss him or something," said Alex, to Emily. "I'm not saying he's the spy," he added as Emily seemed about to protest, "But we have to be prepared for the possibility. We'll set him a test. I hope he passes."

"He will," said Emily, confidently.

-o-O-o-

"You need to get rid of Aaron."

Alex took a shaky breath and exhaled, his hands dropping to rest at his side.

"The boy's a mess," continued the voice from the doorway behind him. "Sure, he's holding it together most of the time, but he's woken up from nightmares every night recently. He's only eight years old and doesn't understand why he can't see his parents. He calls out for them when he wakes. Did you know that?"

Alex sighed. "I know, Sab," he murmured, quietly, still not turning around.

"Then do something about it!" snapped the opinionated young woman.

"I will," he promised. "I just need a few more days, that's all."

-o-O-o-

Harry was perfectly happy, having the chance to finally relax for a night. Chad had had them on roof tops three nights out of the last four, keeping an eye on the government's patrols and he was tired. Sure, they still slept during the day, but it was difficult to sleep in the semi-light rooms provided here and the nightly activities had slowly been sapping his energy.

Needless to say, he wasn't too happy when Chad came in, scowling, and kicked Harry off the sofa.

If you asked Harry, Chad not being around Emily was bad for everyone involved.

"Oi!" protested the soldier from his newly-occupied position on the floor. "Just 'cause Emily doesn't want you anymore is no reason to take it out on us!"

Chad snarled and went to kick the soldier, when an amused chuckle cut across him.

"Seriously, Davies, you need anger management," said Alex, stepping out of the shadows.

"Rider!" snapped Chad, angrily. He didn't like the blond. Everything had been fine before he came along. "How did you get in here?"

"You need better security, as well," answered Alex with a noncommittal shrug. "Anyway, _why_ I am here holds far more relevance don't you think?"

Chad scowled. "Why are you here?" he asked the contrary spy, irritably.

"I'm playing messenger," said the blond, pulling a face. "Here."

He chucked over a sealed envelope and Chad snatched it out of the air.

"Don't worry, I didn't read it," said Alex wryly, as Chad cast a suspicious look at him.

"Good," grunted the soldier, tearing the envelope and reading the letter inside.

"She wants me to go back with you," he said after a moment's silence, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

"Bloody finally!" muttered Harry as he stalked out of the room, apparently deciding that it was none of his business.

"And now I'm a bloody delivery boy," muttered Alex, irritably.

"Fine, then," he said, after staring at Chad for a moment. "But you'll have to be careful. Patrols are out in force at the moment."

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So what did you think? Review and tell me, please? Pretty please? I don't know why, but I seem to be developing a habit of showing little scenes from a randomer's point of view in this story. George last chapter, now Harry. I doubt either of them will ever be seen again, but anyway.**_

_**Oh, and don't forget to go over to the forum!**_


	23. Chapter 23

_**A/N: Hello! I'm sorry I took so long. I'm having a few issues with this story, because while I know where it's going, I am having difficulty actually getting it there. But, anyway, moving on. I am currently avoiding work, and a dozen other things I need to do, but I'm sure you're going to whole-heartedly support that if it means you get more updates, aren't you? :)**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognise.**_

-o-O-o-

Alex shivered as the drizzle seeped through the hoodie he had stolen from Matt.

The cold was seeping up through the concrete he was lying on and he couldn't help but shift uncomfortably as he held a pair of night binoculars – pilfered from the supply truck – to his eyes. Beside him, Davies wasn't doing much better, rustling around as if he _wanted_ to give their position away.

Which, Alex was forced to remind himself, was all too likely to be a possibility.

They'd been up here twenty minutes, and Alex was getting bored. Davies thought that they were waiting to meet Faulkner. In reality, the others had intercepted Faulkner on his way to a completely different meeting point, with only Alex and Davies scoping out the dark square thirty feet below them.

"Where's Yassen?" asked Davies, peering at the square.

"Probably lurking in a shadow," muttered Alex, knowing full well that the assassin wasn't there. "He's good at that."

Davies muttered beside him and shifted uncomfortably.

Alex glared at him irritably, then went back to his study of the square.

He frowned, and twiddled with the notches on the binoculars. It wasn't quite in focus.

He cursed as he finally found the right settings and the far side of the square was thrown into sharp relief.

"Dammit, Davies," he snapped. "I was routing for you!"

Davies barely had time to stare at him before he fell limp against the concrete, unconscious.

-o-O-o-

It took him over an hour to get back, and he had to knock Davies out twice more on the way. The streets were crawling with soldiers, more so than usual, and so Alex found himself clambering over rooftops with Davies a dead weight slung over his shoulder.

By the time he reached the relative safety of the dark house, he was soaked through and his back was aching.

He dumped Davies on the floor in the kitchen and gestured to Graham and Eagle.

"Take him down to the basement and tie him up," he instructed curtly. "I'll deal with him in the morning."

He stripped off the hoody, relieved to find that his t-shirt underneath was still relatively dry, and dumped it in front of the washing machine. Maybe if he asked Sabina nicely, she'd shove it in next time she did a load.

"Here," said Sabina, appearing next to him as if his thoughts had summoned her.

He turned and smiled at her, gratefully taking the steaming mug she pressed into his hands.

"Hot chocolate?" he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

She shrugged. "I know you like it," she commented. "And the sugar will do you more good than caffeine would at this point."

"Thanks," he muttered. "The others?"

"Upstairs. Graham and Eagle came down here to wait for you."

"Right," he said, moving towards the stairs.

-o-O-o-

"Davies is in the basement," said Alex heavily as he entered the Strategy Centre. "Gray and Eagle are tying him up as we speak."

"So, they showed up?" asked Emily, her expression going instantly from calm to heartbroken, complete with tears in her eyes and a wobbling lower lip that she bit down on. Alex thought the change from soldier to love-sick teenager was remarkable, but didn't comment on it.

"I'm sorry," he said instead and she sighed and crossed her arms over her abdomen.

"How did things go with Faulkner?" asked Alex, turning to Matt.

"It was definitely interesting," said Matt, with one final glance at his niece.

"Interesting how?" asked Alex, sharply. In his experience, 'interesting' usually meant 'bad'.

"Well, first of all," said Ben, "A lot of the officers in the army don't want to be fighting this war. They think it's unethical."

"So, they're just following orders?"

"No, worse. A few dozen of them tried to leave. Those that weren't killed had their families kidnapped and held hostage to their good behaviour. Any of the recruits that looks too much as if they're going to cause trouble among the troops are shot. They blame the opposition – or us, if they're dealt with in-country."

"Jesus Christ," muttered Alex. "Do we know where they're being kept?"

"Faulkner didn't," commented Ben, "but I'm fairly sure it's in the information we have upstairs. Snake remembers some pages about a building, but we never really understood it, so none of us paid attention to it."

"Matt, could you and Snake start on that? You probably know your way around better than any of us, it might help."

"Sure," said Matt, and Alex frowned at the lack of resistance. True, they weren't at each other's throats constantly anymore, but they weren't friends either.

He'd talk to him later.

"Right, so our main priority is to find that house and-"

"Hold on, Alex," said Ben, and Alex paused, suddenly embarrassed. He needed to stop rushing ahead without thinking. When it came down to it, Ben probably had more experience and, if he hadn't had regular sparring matches with the world's top assassin, then he had at least been in the field for the last two years, unlike Alex.

"There's something else we found out."

"What?"

"Byrne is alive," said Ben, quietly. "In fact, not only is he alive, but he's free and in hiding… and managed to steal the key-card before he went."

-o-O-o-

Alex frowned slightly as Emily paced in front of Davies. They were in the basement, and part of him _really_ didn't want to be here. Interrogating Davies would come later; _this _was simply Emily facing the lover who had betrayed her. If it had been possible, they all – including Emily, who had been incredibly forthright on the subject – would have preferred that she had been able to do this alone, but none of them would leave her alone with a potentially dangerous enemy.

They were in the basement, at the moment, where Davies had been tied up. There were no windows, and all the general junk from the room had been moved so that prisoners could be kept here, so Alex was fairly sure it was secure.

His frown deepened as he tuned out Emily's harsh words and focused on his thoughts.

The news about Byrne had been… good. To a certain extent, anyway. It had raised a boat load of new issues. No, an entire _flotilla _would be more appropriate. How could they find him? If they managed that, how could they persuade him to give them the key? Even if they got the key, Alex was fairly sure that they'd need an access code. He'd check with Matt later.

He quickly glanced up as Emily's voice faded away completely.

"Why?" she brokenly whispered, after the silence dragged on uncomfortably. "Why would you do this?"

"Em, I swear I didn't!" shouted Davies. "It's not me, I _promise_. I would never!"

Emily shook her head and bit her lip as her eyes flooded with tears and Alex stood.

"Come on, Emily," he said lowly. "You're finished here."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her out of the room.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So! Well, actually, I have no cocky comment to say here at all. Wow. I must be ill or something. Anyways, review and tell me what you thought?**_


End file.
